


Mischief and His Wolf

by willowispstudios



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad friend Scott McCall, F/F, F/M, Hale Family Feels, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mentions of Claudia Stilinski - Freeform, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Nemeton, Polyamory, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slow Build, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Steter - Freeform, Stilinski Family Feels, Untrustworthy Alan Deaton, alpha pack are good guys here, and Stiles is conflicted, but also wants both of them, derek and peter don't touch each other, like at all, season 3 and beyond doesn't really exist, set between Season 2 and Season 3, sterek, they both want Stiles, will add more tags as i post
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-19 12:41:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29874810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowispstudios/pseuds/willowispstudios
Summary: Stiles is left dealing with the aftermath of Gerard and the Kanima, but not with who he expects. His father is working more than ever and their relationship is still strained, Scott is too focused on Allison, the pack is splintered, Peter Hale has been resurrected, and Stiles can barely control his magic.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Comments: 40
Kudos: 209





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yooooo!!!! I'm bring back Mischief and his Wolf finally. I've fixed up everything I wanted to and I've got enough of a buffer now that I'm happy to start reposting. 
> 
> I'll be aiming for at least one chapter a week, depending on how my health and uni work is going at the time. 
> 
> Feedback is awesome and very much welcomed <3

Slowly, Stiles managed to make it upstairs and into the bathroom. His dad wasn’t home, which he was grateful for. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about what had happened and for his dad to find out his injuries went far beyond a bruised face and cut lip.

It hurt to take off his clothes, but then again, every flinch, every twitch, every single move his body made brought nothing but pain. Bruises were littering his chest and wrapping around to his back, cuts and abrasions broke skin in patches, rope burn and broken skin circled his wrists, his left wrist was swollen and was black and blue, muscles were stiff, and his head was fuzzy. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he had more than one broken bone.

Once the water was at the perfect temperature, he stepped in and couldn’t stop the whimper. Stinging glanced across his skin. Trying to pick up the soap proved difficult as his right hand shook too much to get a firm enough grip. Giving up, he leaned against the shower wall with a sigh. He was beyond exhausted and hurt, and just physically either. Sure his body was one big bruise but emotionally, he was a wreck. He was struggling to find a way to process the last few hours. The last couple of months had been a complete mess but today had topped the horrendous cake.

Thinking about the sheer amount of raw emotions that had flooded the warehouse made his stomach churn. Closing his eyes, he focused on keeping his breathing slow and pushed the memory back. The last thing he needed right then was to vomit. If he could sleep, then he’d be able to work on reinstating his mental barriers. It would have been easier if his magic hadn’t chosen to explode out of him during the beating.

However, he knew that with sleep, the nightmares would be inevitable. There was no way he’d escape fresh new ones to mix in with the current ones covered in fire.

Humans were monsters.

With a heavy sigh, Stiles attempted to clean off the dirt and dried blood one-handed. He barely bothered to dry off before slipping into his most comfy pajamas. Shakily, he ventured back downstairs and retrieved a couple of icepacks, and went back to his room where he eased himself on to his bed. By the time he was curled up underneath the blanket with the icepacks draped over his wrist and ribs, he was panting.

He couldn’t stop himself from thinking back on the warehouse. The deep-seated hurt and hopelessness Derek had felt from Scott’s betrayal caused him to whimper. It hadn’t been hard to put two and two together after he had crashed into the warehouse. Derek had been on his knees, looking defeated, with Scott standing over him and Gerard horrified as his body rejected the bite. But then true love saved Jackson and Stiles’s attention had turned away from the mess his friend had caused. The next thing he knew, everyone was leaving in groups, or in Derek’s case, alone. There had been no sign of Gerard but with a bite rejection, Stiles knew his body would turn up eventually.

Stiles curled up further. A sob managed to break through and in a bid to stop the tears from pouring out, he bit sharply on his busted lip until the taste of copper touched his tongue.

The sound of his window opening caused his pained body to tense. He just wanted to be left alone but at the same time, a small part hoped it was Scott. Maybe the guy was finally coming in to check on him. It would be nice to be prioritized again. Ever since Allison had come into the picture, it was like there was nothing else to care about. It wasn’t like Stiles hated that Scott had a girlfriend. He was happy for him, really. But it was always Allison this, Allison that. Phone calls and messages had stopped being answered and bro time had ceased to exist. For once he wanted to be noticed and asked if he was okay.

But the person coming through was quiet and the emotions Stiles felt were muted, not like his best friend who was a mess on the best of days.

When the edge of his bed dipped, Stiles finally looked over his shoulder. He was not prepared to see Peter Hale sitting on the edge of his bed with slightly creased eyes and a small dip of the corner of his lips.

Immediately, he was on edge. This couldn’t be right. He had watched Derek claw open the older wolf’s throat after Stiles had lent a helping hand with burning him again. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to convince himself he was hallucinating but when there was a gentle touch to his cheek, his eyes snapped opened and he whimpered.

This was real. Peter was back. But how?

“What happened?” Peter asked.

“If you’re going to kill me for what I did, I’d rather you’d just get it over with,” Stiles murmured.

He tried to keep his breathing calm as he readied himself for the swipe of claws. After all, he was the one who had betrayed what they had.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m not going to kill you,” Peter said.

“Please don’t call me that. Please,” Stiles begged. “If you do, I … You would be … You should hate me.”

Gentle hands coaxed him up and a hand slid across his neck. Pain was drained from his body and reappeared along Peter’s arm in the form of black veins. It was such a huge relief not feeling all of that anymore and it was tempting to lie back down to fall asleep before the pain could build again.

“I could never hate you, little Mischief. You did what you had to do given the circumstances and if I remember, you always did say that I wasn’t allowed to die and if I did, it would be by your hands,” Peter stated.

“Y-you remember?” Stiles stammered.

Peter nodded. “Even when I wasn’t sane, your scent was familiar and I knew I needed you in my pack. Granted, I went about it wrongly and hurt you in the process.”

Stiles was silent and when he reached out, it was with hesitation but he managed to get shaky fingers to curl around the fabric of Peter’s shirt. He knew werewolves needed pack and touch to stay healthy and more than once since Peter had woken up from his coma had he wondered if someone had been there for the wolf, would his madness have been so lethal. On top of losing his family in the fire, he had been left alone by the survivors, those bonds breaking days after so many had died. Without pack support and care, there was only one direction a wolf could go.

Maybe if the Stilinski’s hadn’t hidden, things would have turned out differently.

“Whatever your thoughts have turned to, stop. You weren’t to blame. I can’t and won’t feel sorry for what I did, but there are certain things I know I wouldn’t have done had I been of mind,” Peter reasoned.

Stiles couldn’t fault him for taking revenge. He had thought about what Peter had done numerous times and what he would do had Stiles been in his place. If he had also lost his father, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to hold back from hunting down those responsible and tearing them apart. There was no question about it. The only reason he hadn’t done so when his mother had died was because the tablets he had taken to suppress his magic had knocked him around that first year. He had been barely aware of what was happening around him. It was a miracle the two Stilinski men had survived.

Licking his lips, Stiles nodded.

“Who did this?” Peter asked, brushing a thumb underneath his bruised check.

“How’d you know I was hurt?” Stiles asked.

“I was able to smell it at the warehouse. Derek would have been here too but he needed to check in with his wayward betas,” Peter said.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Right.”

“Stiles.”

With a huff, Stiles focused on the roof and answered, “Gerard Argent. Some of his guys took me from the lacrosse field and he had his wicked way with me.”

At Peter’s possessive growl, Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Relax, Kujo. It wasn’t like that. They just made me well acquainted with fists and … and other things. Erica and Boyd were already there, chained up and being electrocuted, but they can confirm no bad touch happened.”

Stiles tried to take a deep breath and hissed. His ribs objected to the movement and he tried to breathe through the pain. Peter took his hand and drained the new pain.

“I couldn’t help them, Peter. I … I tried to release them but my wrist hurt so much and Gerard came down and saw me. I tried to make sure his attention was on me to stop him from hurting the betas. He told me I was a message and I … Chris found us once Gerard had left and dropped us off back home,” Stiles continued.

“Message for who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles murmured.

“Stiles. Message for who?”

“Scott. Not like he noticed,” Stiles sighed.

“Did you know his plan?” Peter asked.

Stiles frowned. “Whose plan?”

“Scott’s.”

“Scott had a plan?”

“Who else knows about what happened to you?” Peter asked.

Stiles frowned deepened as he tried to concentrate. “Dad thinks the other team roughed me up a little but you’re the only one who knows the truth. What do you mean Scott had a plan?”

“I’ll explain later. Can I have a look?” Peter asked.

Between the pain drain and the exhaustion of the night, all Stiles wanted to do was sleep. However, he knew what an overprotective wolf looked and sounded like so there would be no arguing with Peter right now. With a groan, he dropped his forehead against Peter’s shoulder.

“Can’t I just sleep?”

“Sorry, not yet. I need to remove your shirt,” Peter told him.

“No bad touch, Zombie Wolf,” Stiles murmured.

“Zombie Wolf, Stiles?”

Stiles shrugged. “You’re the one who decided to rise from the grave. It was either that or Lazarus.”

“I see. Now, can I remove your shirt?”

“Yeah.”

Peter eased Stiles back and lifted the teen’s shirt off. Hissing in pain, Stiles curled up and hugged his ribs. Goosebumps riddled his bare skin as cold airbrushed up against him. The growl that came out of the older wolf had Stiles freezing for a few seconds before he forced himself to relax with the knowledge he was dealing with a sane Peter.

“I need to take you to the hospital,” Peter said.

He could feel the barest of touch skimming across his back and along his sides where black bruises were growing.

Stiles shook his head. “Don’t want to go.”

“Sorry, but your wrist and ribs need to be seen by a professional before any permanent damage sets in,” Peter objected.

Stiles groaned but didn’t say any more as Peter left the bed and pulled out a short-sleeved plaid shirt from the wardrobe. He was helped into the shirt before socks and shoes were put on him. Peter collected the teen’s wallet, phone, and keys, and carried him out of the house after it was evident he was too wobbly on his own feet.

Parked next to the Jeep was Derek’s Camaro and even in Stiles’s sleepy state, he still managed to raise his eyebrows in question.

“You were the priority,” Peter shrugged.

Peter eased Stiles into the passenger seat and strapped him in, bearing in mind how his tender chest would react to the restraint.

“Message your father,” Peter instructed as he drove off.

Stiles grimaced. “No. I’ll tell him when he gets home.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to tell him sooner rather than later?” Peter checked.

“Maybe but …”

Pursing his lips, Stiles pulled out his phone and messaged his father that he was going to the hospital. He got a message back quickly enough, his father telling him he’ll meet him at the hospital. So much for avoiding an interrogation.

“Dad will be at the hospital,” Stiles said. “Just drop me off at the entrance.”

“I won’t leave you,” Peter said.

“Dad will be there so it’s fine. Hospitals suck and you’re still a missing coma patient so I won’t put you through all that crap,” Stiles said.

“I don’t –”

“Peter,” Stiles said forcibly.

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Peter’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“You’ll be able to hear me from the parking lot?” Stiles checked.

“I can follow your heartbeat for some distance. We’ve tested this,” Peter confirmed.

“I didn’t … think you’d still be able to after everything that’s happened,” Stiles softly admitted.

“Nothing has changed between us. But this is not a conversation we should have while you need medical treatment,” Peter said.

Stiles nodded. “I know. I still don’t want you in a place you’d rather avoid so if you stay in the parking lot, you can still keep track of me and I can message you updates.”

Peter reached over and squeezed Stiles’s thigh. It was the closest he’d get to an agreement.

They pulled into the hospital lot and stayed there for a moment. From where they were, they could see the Sheriff pacing across the entrance, occasionally checking his phone. Melissa McCall was waiting there with him. Stiles bit his bottom lip. He really didn’t want to get out of the car. There would be a lot of questions and a lot of disappointed looks. It was all he had been getting for the last couple of months and tonight, he just wanted to avoid it all.

He didn’t want to be the law-breaking disappointment of a son. Not today.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Stiles unbuckled himself and made a move to leave the car. Before he could open the door, Peter stopped him.

With a questioning look, Stiles tilted his head. Silently, the wolf ran his hands up Stiles’s arms and cupped his neck. Peter leaned across the middle console and ran his nose along Stiles’s temple. Something within the teen relaxed and he raised his good hand to caress Peter’s neck in return.

Peter took Stiles’s phone and fiddled with it. When the wolf didn’t ask for his passcode, Stiles raised an eyebrow but stayed silent.

“Keep me updated,” Peter requested, giving back the device.

Stiles nodded and eased himself out of the car. By the time he made it to this father and Melissa, the pain was in full force and all he wanted to do was curl up in bed.

“Stiles, let’s go.”

The Sheriff could barely hide his impatience as he led the way inside. Melissa gave him a sympathetic look and squeezed his arm before ushering him in. The nurse checked them in and ushered them to the waiting room. To ignore the gross feeling of sickness, pain, and death mixing in with the impatience coming from his father, Stiles pulled out his phone. With one hand, he pulled up Peter’s contact information and changed his name.

 **To Zombie Wolf:**  
In the waiting room. Already bored

 **To Stiles:**  
I’ll get you curly fries if you don’t do a disappearing act

 **To Zombie Wolf:**  
I don’t know what would be worse. Smelling the sick and dying or actually feeling it. Next time, we’re avoiding the hospital

 **To Stiles:**  
There better not be a next time. But I’ll throw in some books if you remain until you’ve been tended to

Stiles snorted at the bribery and rolled his eyes fondly.

“Was that from Scott?” his father asked.

“No,” Stiles answered flatly.

“He was really worried about you earlier when I realized you were missing,” his dad tried.

Stiles scoffed in disbelief. “Sure he was and that’s why he’s checked in to see if I’m alright. Oh, wait. He hasn’t.”

It didn’t take long for Melissa to come back with a doctor and they were escorted into an examination room. When the doctor asked what had happened, he didn’t stop the blunt reply from coming out. It didn’t take a genius to see that he had been beaten up. His snark had earned disapproval from both Melissa and his father but at the point, Stiles didn’t care. The pain was making his patience run thin and he wanted to get back to his wolf. However, he still had to have x-rays of his chest and wrist completed once his cuts were cleaned and covered.

More than once, he was warned to be polite and all Stiles could do was roll his eyes. He told his father he didn’t have to be there but that had only earned a look and the Sheriff to take a stand with his arms folded across his chest.

When he was escorted to have his x-rays done, Melissa took a moment to tell him to lay off as his dad’s been under a lot of pressure lately and the last thing he needed was to take attitude from his son. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying the first thing that came to mind.

Once the scans were completed and he was back in the examination room, he didn’t see his friend’s mother again. He had been so close to exposing what was beneath the masks he wore. No one but Peter knew who he really was anymore. Everyone else had a certain expectation of him.

It turned out he had four fractured ribs, a broken wrist, a mild concussion, and a hell of a lot of bruising. Stiles was taped up, covered in a patchwork of bandages, and his arm covered in a horrible fluorescent green cast by the end of it.

Just as he and his father were making their way back through the hospital after the doctor gave him strict instructions on what not to do over the next six weeks, his father’s phone rang. Stiles raised his gaze from his device as the man gestured for him to wait and took a few steps away.

“What do you mean Jackson Whittemore is alive? He was dead a few hours ago,” the Sheriff exclaimed. “Fine. I’ll be there soon, put him into an interview room.”

The Sheriff didn’t bother looking apologetic as he came back to his son.

“I have to go back to the station. Jackson apparently did a runner home,” his father explained.

Stiles nodded in understanding.

“I’ll drop you home on the way,” John said.

“It’s fine. I’ll call someone to give me a ride,” Stiles waved off.

“Are you sure? It’s not far out of the way,” he checked.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Alright but I’m going to wait for them to get here.”

Stiles looked at his father for a moment before nodding in acceptance and dialed Peter’s number.

“Hey, would you be able to take me home? Dad needs to go to the station,” Stiles said as soon as the call was answered.

_“What was the diagnosis?”_

“Four fractured ribs, a broken wrist, mild concussion, and the obvious cuts and bruises,” Stiles answered.

_“I’ll be there in five minutes.”_

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

He hung up and turned to his father. “He’s on his way.”

“Then let’s head for the entrance.”

By the time the two of them made it to the entrance, the Camaro was already there waiting. It was a relief leaving the hospital. If he had to stay any longer, he imagined he would bring up the last thing he ate. The emotions staining the hospital were too much to handle.

“Derek Hale is the friend giving you the ride?” the Sheriff asked.

“It’s not Derek. You’ll be home later?” Stiles asked.

“Depends on how complicated the whole mess with Jackson is. I’ll have to stay at the station until it’s all sorted so if it’s too late, I’ll just use the couch in my office,” his dad answered.

Stiles nodded and walked to the car. The passenger door opened and he slipped inside, greeting Peter with a smile.

“That didn’t take as long as I thought,” Peter noted, driving off.

Stiles shrugged. “It was fairly straight forward. The longest wait was for the x-rays.”

Peter reached over and dripped the back of Stiles’s neck, taking as much of his pain as he could while driving.

“Thanks,” Stiles sighed.

“I don’t like you being hurt,” Peter said.

Stiles glanced over to the man but as Peter was focused on the road, he decided to drop it.

They were quiet for the rest of the drive home and the only time Peter stopped touching him was to change gears. Being close to the wolf was a relief. It was quiet and peaceful.

By the time they made it to the Stilinski household, Stiles was beyond ready to sleep. He was vaguely aware of when the car was parked and Peter carrying him inside. He remained quiet when the wolf sat him down on his bed and removed his shirt, jeans, and shoes. When Peter ran a hand down his head and back, Stiles leaned against him. Everything the wolf did, made him feel safe, calm, and in control.

*

Since there was only a week of school left before summer holidays, the doctor had instructed him to stay home to rest and heal. High school was not a great place to be in with fractured ribs. His father came home that Monday with packets of work that had been organized by his teachers.

After the first couple of days, he was grateful for something to try and focus on.

Peter had left early the next morning after the hospital visit as his dad had come home to change his uniform. His father had stayed long enough to give him instructions not to overdo it with the painkillers and not to stay in bed all day.

Sighing, Stiles had made himself comfortable on the couch and booted up his Xbox. He didn’t get far gaming. The controller was too bulky to use with a cast on. Grumbling, Stiles had given up on trying and switched to watching movies.

To his surprise, no one came to visit or contacted them. Not on the first day, not any day during the week. It hurt that Scott hadn’t checked in when he missed school. Any messages Stiles sent went ignored. It was a given that the betas, Lydia, or Jackson wouldn’t contact him. They weren’t exactly friends or pack but after everything they had been through, he would have thought they’d cared a little.

The first night without company found Stiles tormented by nightmares of Gerard. The basement had been full of fear and disgust. Having Empathy had nearly caused him to empty his stomach. Only getting hit on his head hard enough to disorient him had stopped that. With his nightmares reminding him and twisting what had happened, Stiles jolted awake and scrambled to the bathroom. Agony burned across his chest as he dry heaved.

By day four, Stiles was staring at his phone, contemplating on calling Peter but he couldn’t get himself to do so. It was hard to trust that Peter didn’t want some sort of revenge for being lit on fire a second time. While it would be disappointing, it would be expected. He was exhausted though and sleeping with Peter beside him had staved off the nightmares from appearing that night he had stayed. It wasn’t hard to want company when he spent day in and day out alone.

Growling, he tried to focus on his summer work and when that didn’t work, he turned to the Argent’s bestiary. He took everything with a grain of salt considering the biased outlook the hunter family had but he was fascinated to learn what sort of creatures they had come across. It made him want to find out sources to fact check. Google proved to be both a blessing and a curse. There was a lot of misinformation to sift through and more often than not, he was distracted by something else. He wished they still had some of their books but a part of hiding their magic had involved purging everything magic from their lives.

Well, for Stiles, from his home life.

In between studying and researching, Stiles fiddled with his magic as much as he could. He didn’t have the best control anymore and not everything he could remember came naturally to him anymore. It was like a weakened muscle so he knew that while using magic currently drained his energy, the more he used it, the stronger he would grow. The biggest struggle came with his Empathy. There was no break from it. He could feel his neighbor’s day in, day out. It was taking a lot longer for him to reinstate his mental barriers. It was exhausting.

Unfortunately, despite being injured and exhausted, things around the house still needed to be done and his father wasn’t around to help out. Cleaning was slow going and cooking proved to be horribly difficult one-handed. However, both still needed to be done but as the days passed, Stiles worked out how to do certain things without creating a bigger mess. There were some tasks he simply couldn’t do single-handed or even while his ribs were still broken.

His phone ringing tore his attention away from the entry on Selkies. The caller ID read ‘Private Number’, causing him to frown.

“Hello?”

_“Hello, Mieczyslaw. How have you been?”_

“Who is this?” Stiles asked.

_“It hasn’t been that long for you to have forgotten your grandmother.”_

Stiles tensed.

“Sure. If you think eight years is nothing. How did you get my number, Elysia?” Stiles asked tersely.

 _“You didn’t think I’d keep track of my grandson, did you? I heard from John that you have stopped taking the suppressants,”_ Elysia.

Stiles silently cursed. He’d been negligent in hiding that fact. If the Stilinski men had been close, Stiles should have taken the time to talk to his father about what had been going on and what their course of action should be once he knew wolves were back in town. As it stands, Stiles had kept hidden how involved he was with the werewolves in town, the emergence of a Kanima, and the trouble the hunters had brought. It was lie after lie, and Stiles hated himself for it but after everything, he didn’t want to drag his father back into this life.

Hearing that his father knew about the suppressants made him wonder what else he knew and was waiting for Stiles to say something.

“It was needed. Is there a problem?”

_“Not at all. But the Grand Council do need to know your intentions.”_

“My intentions?”

“Are you planning on reclaiming Beacon County and rejoining the Royal Council?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t even have to think about it. The territory needed to be guarded and he had the means of doing so.

“School ends tomorrow? The Grand Council will meet with you in the evening by the Nemeton,” Elysia said.

Stiles sighed. “Fine.”

Without waiting to see if she had anything else to say, Stiles hung up.

He ran his good hand down his face, beyond exhausted. It had been eight years since anyone in their family had contacted them. Annoyed at his father, he called to demand an explanation however, his call went answered. Chewing on his bottom lip, he decided to message the man instead. Instead of letting on how annoyed he was about having his number shared without his knowledge, Stiles simply told his dad about being contacted by Elysia.

Getting to the meeting was going to be a problem. He couldn’t drive so he’d have to rely on someone to get him there and back. John wouldn’t be an option. The Sheriff’s department was still short-staffed after the massacre so his dad was doing twice, even three times the amount of work compared to normal. Derek didn’t trust him so there was no point in even asking the Alpha.

 **To Zombie Wolf:**  
Busy tomorrow afternoon?

 **To Stiles:**  
Depends on what you’re after

 **To Zombie Wolf:**  
Don’t be creepy. Are you busy or not?

 **To Stiles:**  
I can spare a moment

 **To Zombie Wolf:**  
Can you drive me to the preserve?

 **To Stiles:**  
What’s in the preserve?

 **To Zombie Wolf:**  
Trees

 **To Stiles:**  
Dear boy, I’m going to need a better reason to drive you to the preserve with fractured ribs

 **To Zombie Wolf:**  
I have a meeting to go to

 **To Zombie Wolf:**  
Can’t say much yet

 **To Zombie Wolf:**  
Can you take me or not?

 **To Stiles:**  
Of course. Let me know when

 **To Zombie Wolf:**  
Thank you. 4

Sighing, he slumped against the couch and fiddled with his phone. He wanted to sleep but every time he closed his eyes, he was plagued with images of fire and Gerard. After every nightmare, he woke up feeling sick and panicked, and his ribs only hurt more.

He groaned when there was a knock on the door. Grunting in pain, he leveraged himself on to his feet and opened the door. To his surprise, Peter was there with what looked like bags of take-out.

“Hungry?” Peter asked, pushing his way inside.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles murmured, “Sure, come on in.”

He followed the older wolf into the kitchen and watched as plates, cutlery, and drinks from the fridge were taken out.

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Stiles said.

“Sure.”

“Creep.”

“Grab the drinks, dear,” Peter instructed.

Sighing, Stiles hugged two bottles with one arm against his chest and followed Peter to the lounge. After placing the drinks on the coffee table and sitting on the couch, Peter handed over a plate of Pad Thai with a spring roll.

“Not that I’m not grateful but why are you here and feeding me?” Stiles asked.

“You’re pack,” Peter answered.

Stiles frowned. “Uh, pretty sure I’m not, dude. Derek doesn’t trust me and he can’t stand me despite the fact we keep saving each other. Plus, I haven’t heard from anyone since you left Saturday morning when dad came home.”

“Don’t call me ‘dude’. You are pack and once my nephew gets over himself, he’ll tell you the same thing,” Peter said.

The TV was the only noise around them as they ate. Stiles couldn’t stop frowning as he thought about what Peter said. He wasn’t sure he was pack despite having been prior to the fire. He wasn’t sure if Derek remembered when Stiles and his mother would visit the pack house, where Stiles would bug Peter while Claudia had tea with Talia. So far, there had been no indication Derek remembered. Maybe Derek shied away from those memories just like he did.

Once they were finished, Peter took their dishes to the sink and sat back on the couch, clearing waiting for Stiles to say what was on his mind.

“You don’t have to do this, Peter,” Stiles murmured.

“What do you mean?” Peter asked, tilting his head.

“The suppressants damaged our bond to the point that over the years, it just disappeared,” Stiles said, staring at his hands in his lap. “You don’t have any obligations being here.”

“Is that what you think you are? An obligation?” Peter asked.

Stiles shrugged, still refusing to meet his eye.

“Sweetheart, you still mean much to –”

Stiles let out a shaky breath. Magic simmered below the surface, eager to reach out to the wolf. Struggling to hold it back, Stiles stood and backed away from the couch. Sparks snapped across his arms and when his control slipped, he doubled over as magic rushed out of him. All he could do as he fought back was clench his teeth and growl in frustration.

A wave of magic rushed out of him and his knees gave way. He tried to breathe through it and take control back but it was hard and he hurt.

A body draped over his back and arms wrapped around his stomach. He could feel a face tucked against his neck and feel breath brushing against the skin. Pain left his body and Stiles focused in on the puff of air.

Slowly, he calmed down and his magic was reigned in.

“Good, pet. Just breathe.”

“P-Peter?” Stiles stammered.

“I’m here.”

Stiles whimpered and turned in the older wolf’s hold. He wrapped his arms around Peter and clung to his back. Burying his face against a shoulder, he tried to focus on keeping his breathing even despite the panic bubbling to the surface.

With ease, Peter hoisted him up and carried him back to the couch. When the wolf sat down, he made sure not to dislodge Stiles.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked.

Stiles nodded.

“Does this happen often?”

Stiles hesitated to answer. “Not as bad.”

Hands ran up and down in soothing patterns along his spine. He couldn’t help but relax in the embrace.

“What can I do to help?”

This time, Stiles shrugged. He knew what he needed but he wasn’t sure about where he stood with anyone, including Peter despite their history.

“You called me ‘pet’,” Stiles murmured.

“I did,” Peter confirmed.

“Why? I remember you called me pet as a kid but mom said to stop it and you did. Why now?”

Peter nuzzled the side of Stiles’s face.

“Where is she?” Peter asked. “I can’t smell her in the house and I haven’t seen her around.”

Stiles tensed and whined.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, voice full of sorrow.

His grip on the teen tightened. “She made me promise to keep our bond platonic, at least until you were over eighteen and can decide for yourself what you wanted from this. There are certain things a wolf will call someone depending on their bond. When I call you pet, it’s because I’m claiming you as mine. Mine to look after, mine to teach, mine to have in any way we both agree to.”

Stiles pressed his body against Peter and tucked his face against his neck. He didn’t know what to say. What was offered was too much and yet it was exactly what he should have expected. Peter had never hidden his possessive nature and strange enough, it made Stiles want more.

“Get some rest, pet.”

He didn’t want to rest. Resting meant possible nightmares if he slept deep enough and he didn’t want anyone to witness those. However, slumped against Peter, pain-free and feeling safe, Stiles couldn’t stop his eyes from closing.

*

Stiles nervously bounced his knee as he waited for Peter to arrive to take him to the preserve. Needing to move, he got up from the couch and paced around the living room. It had been a couple of days since he’d seen his father and they’d barely spoken on the phone, conversations barely lasting a minute at most. He wondered whether or not his father had even left the station for a change of clothes but knowing the workaholic, most likely not. He had hoped his father would come home so that they could finally talk and Stiles could get some help with the Grand Council.

Making sure he had his phone, wallet, and keys, Stiles left the house and waited for the front step. It wasn’t long until Peter pulled up in the most ridiculously expensive black car. Rolling his eyes, Stiles slipped into the passenger seat.

“Dude!” Stiles exclaimed.

Peter chuckled. “I’m a man of luxury.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles fiddled with the buttons and when that couldn’t keep his focus, squirmed in his seat and fiddled with his phone. His knee bounced as he stared out of his window.

“You’re nervous,” Peter noted.

“Hmm, yeah,” Stiles said distractedly.

He bit his thumb, barely taking in the scenery passing by.

“What’s the meeting about?”

“A few things, I guess.”

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Peter guessed.

“Not yet,” Stiles said.

“Do you need me at this meeting?” Peter checked.

“Na but I guess you’ll be hanging around somewhere anyway,” Stiles said.

The answering smirk told Stiles everything he needed to know. Deep down, he was kind of glad Peter was going to stick around, even in the shadows.

Peter pulled into the public parking lot but Stiles didn’t immediately get out. He stared at the tree line, chewing on his lip. He didn’t know if it was just nerves setting him off anymore. Looking at the preserve, he could feel the magic shifting through the trees, waiting for him.

“Stiles?”

“Do you ever get … feelings about something?”

“Of many things. Are you talking about instinct?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know. Never mind.” Shaking his head, Stiles left the car and trudged through the preserve.

Magic brushed up against his hands and the back of his neck. It was welcoming and the longer he walked, the magic turned playful. The preserve was happy he was there. The way the magic flowed around him nudged at his control. He had to stop and take slow breaths to stay on top of it all.

A hand came to rest against his lower back and it helped anchor him. Nodding to himself, Stiles continued to the Nemeton.

At the edge of the clearing, Stiles stopped and turned to Peter, however, the wolf was nowhere in sight.

“Don’t interrupt, no matter what happens, but do stay close. I don’t trust any of them,” Stiles murmured, knowing the wolf would be able to hear him.

Licking his lips, Stiles entered the clearing and approached the stump. No one else had arrived yet and he couldn’t sense any other magic user in the vicinity.

When he placed a hand on top of the wood, he sent a greeting with his magic and smiled when he received one in return. It felt like he was greeting an old friend. The troubling thing though, was that it was weak. No wards were protecting it and Stiles could sense something troubling coursing through it.

With a frown, Stiles closed his eyes and pushed some of his magic through. He tried to help with whatever was hurting it but with his current skill level, he couldn’t find the source. In the end, all he could do was put a band-aid over the problem.

When he pulled back, he left with a promise he’ll be coming back to ward the hell out of it.

With a sigh, Stiles laid down on his back and focused on breathing. He was hungry, exhausted, and he ached.

Magic brushed against his cheek, ran through his hair, and wrapped around his arms. It tugged a smile on Stiles and he knew the exhaustion was worth it. A breeze ruffled his shirt and he snorted when he felt magic curiously slip underneath and run along the bruising riddling his chest.

“Crazy hunters be crazy,” Stiles murmured.

A soft warmth blanketed his skin and it became easier to breathe. It didn’t last long though. The magic rushed away, leaving him cold and confused. Sitting up, he found himself no longer alone. He tilted his head as the emotions of eleven people slammed against him. Most were neutral, except for what was coming from Deaton. The guy was very much annoyed, not that you’d be able to see going by the lack of facial expression going on.

“Mr. Stilinski, I would kindly ask that you get off the Nemeton. It’s not a place for sitting,” Deaton said.

“If Nem wanted me off, I wouldn’t have been able to sit down in the first place,” Stiles shrugged.

“Even then, please get off. This is a sacred space,” Deaton urged.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles stood. “I take it you were put in charge when dad stepped down?”

“He was. Thank you for attending this meeting. In attendance is Elysia Stilinski, Teddy Boulevard, Li Wei, Henrietta Weber, William Dane, Alexei Ivanov, Danex Kalchik, and I’m Carter Ryan. With guest Alan Deaton as current guardian of Beacon County,” a middle aged man in a grey suit introduced.

As each was introduced, they nodded in greeting. Stiles returned the nods and pocketed his hands.

“Your magic is rather active,” Carter added.

“I stopped taking the suppressants and I tend on taking back my birthright,” Stiles said.

“You and your family forfeited any claim by hiding your magic and cutting your connection to the land,” Teddy, a brunette woman, argued.

Stiles hummed and pocketed his hands.

“We hid our magic only because dad wasn’t sure if those who killed the Hale’s and in turn, mom, had stuck around to kill us too. We were attached to the pack after all. However, my connection to the land was never severed,” Stiles explained.

An older woman with familiar blue eyes and shoulder length brown hair with a few gray streaks stepped forward.

“A part of the agreement was to step aside. Are you telling us this didn’t happen, Mieczyslaw?”

“Why would I step away when the land was hurting from so many deaths? I wasn’t going to add to its sadness, Elysia. Now, as for the agreement, did I sign anything? Did I verbally agree to it?” Stiles smirked.

A varied range of confused startle radiated from the group. None of them thought to ask a ten-year-old. None of them thought he’d understand what was going on. It was their mistake they never considered talking to Stiles and getting him to agree. It was their fault they took John’s word to include his son.

“Beacon County has someone guarding over it. It’s been my duty for the past eight years,” Deaton said.

“And yet, I can’t sense any wards and Nem is suffering,” Stiles objected.

“Address the Nemeton accordingly. The wards were fine the last time I checked and you have just come back into your magic. Maybe leave the wards to those who know what they’re doing,” Deaton brushed off.

Stiles hummed and took a seat back on top of the Nemeton, barely hiding his amusement when the vet glared at him.

“I will be taking back Beacon County,” Stiles calmly declared. “The land will recognize my claim even if the Council does not.”

There was silence amongst the eleven before him.

“What classification does your magic fall under?” Carter asked.

“Spark,” Stiles answered.

That answer had the Grand Council glancing at one another. Stiles tilted his head when he felt nervous energy coming from a few of them. Perhaps he should find the remaining Gajo’s.

“Your eye color?” Alexei asked.

“Brown?” Stiles frowned.

“Your Spark eyes,” Alexei clarified.

Stiles shrugged. “Haven’t looked in the mirror.”

“Are there any objections to Mieczyslaw taking back his birthright?” Elysia checked.

Stiles switched his gaze from one member of the council to the next until finally settling on Deaton with a triumphant smirk.

“I object. The boy has been nothing but trouble and he was seen with the feral wolf, Peter Hale,” Deaton argued.

“Peter was never feral. Mostly insane and consumed with the need for revenge against those who killed your family, yes, but never feral. But that stands to question – if you were doing your duty as you claimed to have done, then how was it that he went, as you say, feral?” Stiles asked.

“Mr. Hale has always been unhinged and manipulative. His inevitable death at the hands of his nephew has righted the balance he very clearly ignored,” Deaton said.

Sparks snapped down Stiles’s arms and a harsh wind blew past them. The trees bordering the clearing creaked and groaned.

“Inevitable, huh?” Stiles murmured, standing up.

“Feral wolves need to be put down for the greater good,” Deaton confirmed.

Before Stiles could retort, a casually dressed woman with black hair pulled back in a low bun stepped forward. She gave him a reassuring smile and clasped her hands in front of her.

“If there are no more objects, Mieczyslaw Stilinski will be the guardian of this territory, including the Nemeton, and those occupying the land, both human and other. Alan Deaton, your services will no longer be needed. Thank you for all you’ve done for the Grand Council and Beacon County. You may leave this meeting and return to your Druid responsibilities,” she said.

Stiles watched the man try to keep his neutral expression in place as his magic calmed down. There were only small ticks, there and gone movements, to show his displeasure, before the man was turning around and walking back through the preserve.

“I know Mieczyslaw is my given name and all but can you just call me Stiles?” he asked.

“As you wish. I’m Henrietta Weber. I will be in charge of making your transition as smooth as possible,” the casually dressed woman said.

Stiles studied the woman. She was one of the few who had remained neutral when he revealed he was a Spark. There was no waver of her emotions at all.

“Thanks.”

“Is there anything else the Grand Council would like to address?” Carter asked.

Silence was the answer and the Grand Council turned around and left the clearing. Only Elysia glanced back, looking like she had something to say to him but Stiles glared and switched his attention to the Nemeton. He had nothing to say to her.

Deaton was most likely going to be a problem but that could wait until he had secured the territory and made sure everyone was safe, including the Nemeton.

He tilted his head at the sound of Peter melting out of the shadows of the trees. Despite being able to feel what the wolf was feeling, it was muted. Unlike others, Peter’s emotions were gentle on him. They didn’t demand his attention. They didn’t dismiss what he was feeling, confusing his mind.

What he could parse out, Peter was curious.

“You heard everything?” Stiles checked.

“I did,” Peter confirmed.

Sighing, Stiles stepped away from the Nemeton and said, “Let’s go see our Alpha. There’s a bit I need to explain to the two of you.”

“I have a question,” Peter said.

“Of course you do,” Stiles smirked.

“Your Spark eyes,” Peter said.

“That isn’t a question,” Stiles pointed out.

Peter stared at him and said, “Show me.”

Stiles studied him for a moment, contemplating how much he wanted the wolf to know at the moment. In the end, he knew he couldn’t hide anything from Peter.

Bringing forth his magic, his eyes changed from a bright brown to a milky white. Peter stepped so close they were barely touching. Whatever he was thinking, whatever was feeling, was hidden from Stiles. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched those blue eyes study his.

“Perfect,” Peter whispered, running a thumb underneath one of Stiles’s eyes.

“You know what they mean?” Stiles asked.

Peter nodded. “Claudia told me. Hers hadn’t been so bright.”

Stiles tilted his head into Peter’s touch and closed his eyes, pulling his magic back within.

“I don’t want anyone else to know,” Stiles murmured, opening his eyes.

Peter caressed his check with a thumb before withdrawing his hand. “Of course, pet.”

A hand pressed against the small of his back and the two walked back through the preserve. When he felt fingers slip underneath his shirt, he didn’t shrug off the touch. The building pain he had been trying to ignore was seeping out where those fingers were pressed against his skin. It was a relief to not have to deal with it anymore.

Strange enough, he felt his magic reach out and wrap around the wolf. He expected it to be shrugged off or dismissed but instead, it was welcomed and they shifted closer.

“Is Derek still staying at the train depot?” Stiles asked.

“No. He’s found somewhere else to lurk,” Peter answered.

“Oh, goodie,” Stiles murmured. “Let me guess – another abandoned place?”

Peter’s answer was a small smirk as they drove through town. When they made their way to downtown Beacon Hills and stopped outside of a tall brick building, Stiles frowned.

“Well, this looks cozy,” he commented.

“Come along, dear.”

“Sure, Zombie Wolf.”

He wasn’t enthused about the rickety elevator they stepped into. He remained tense until the doors opened again and he was led out into a loft. The open floor was impressive. Impressively empty. There was a bed in a corner, a desk centered to the massive floor to ceiling window, and an old couch. There wasn’t even a TV. Opposite the bed, there was a spiral staircase leading to more of the loft. A hole in the wall looked like it led to the kitchen.

“Homey,” Stiles noted, glancing around.

“What are you two doing here?” Derek demanded, coming down the staircase.

Classic Derek, already annoyed.

“Hello to you too, oh fearless leader,” Stiles greeted.

He watched as Derek’s eyes flicked towards Stiles’s case and the bruises marring his face, and his frown deepened. There was concern there but he doubted Derek would ask.

“We have to talk, dear nephew,” Peter said.

Derek growled, hatred pouring off him like miasma, and flashed alpha red eyes. Without thinking about it, Stiles stepped in front of Peter and sparks crackled between them and Derek.

The surprise and confusion forced Derek to tensely step back and his eyes returned to their normal array of colors. The hatred had eased off but the confusion didn’t mix well.

“What did you do to him?” Derek growled.

“I assure you, I’ve done nothing,” Peter answered.

“You know, I’m a little insulted you’d think that something has had to happen for me to be something,” Stiles said.

“You’re supposed to be human,” Derek pointed out.

“Wrong. I’ve never been human. Well, I’m humanish. No more human than a born werewolf,” Stiles countered.

“It’s best to allow him to speak,” Peter suggested.

Derek took another step back and folded his arms across his chest, eyebrows drawn down in displeasure. Everything about the man made Stiles squirm with uncertainty. He glanced over to Peter and when the wolf nodded, Stiles took a deep breath and launched into an explanation.

“My mother’s side of the family, the Gajo’s, are Sparks. They’re not exactly common and I’m pretty sure there’s only one other family line that produces Sparks unless they’ve been hunted down. Sparks are the strongest magic users out there because we are magic. The Stilinski’s are mages who have been tied to Beacon County for generations. Both the Gajo’s and Stilinski’s have long lives, though for different reasons. Dad is in his eighties and mom died in her seventies, not that you’d be able to tell. My oldest sister is forty-seven. That’s Moira. Then there’s Penelope at forty, Aleksandria is thirty-eight, and my youngest sister, Calliope, is thirty.”

“Mom … mom was a strong Spark. When you’re that strong, you need an anchor, and sometimes a secondary tether. But it can’t just be anything like a wolf can have. Sparks need a supernatural one. We need ties to a pack or a clan or clave or whatever. Any sorts of groups will do. Mom was anchored to … the pack here. Your family. My sisters took more after dad so they don’t need any special sort of anchor or tether to deal with their magic. When mom was pregnant with me, she had a feeling I’d take after her so she asked Talia if I would be accepted into the pack as well.”

“I’ve known Peter for as long as I can remember. Mom and him were close. I loved it when he came to visit because it meant learning something new and having fun. Mom … she …”

Stiles let out a shaky breath and ran a hand over his hair.

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to talk about her. It’s okay,” Peter softly said.

Derek’s eyes narrowed at the endearment but he remained silent.

Stiles shook his head and said, “No. Both of you need to know everything. Mom felt … Mom felt the pack die in the fire. All of the ties she had for decades were all destroyed. She couldn’t cope and it … her magic slowly burned her. She managed to hold on for a little over a year and in the end, it was bad.”

“My magic grew leaps and bounds from … from … Having long lives and being old families, the Stilinski’s and Gajo’s are considered royalty in the supernatural world. Our families are tied to the Grand and Royal Councils so dad made contact with his mom and we were given tablets to suppress our magic while my older sisters were … encouraged … to stay away since they all lived elsewhere already. The tablets worked but there were side effects and dad persisted we needed to keep taking them.”

“When Scott was bitten and he became a wolf, I thought finally, I can be me again. I decided to stop taking the tablets without telling dad and let my magic out, and I’d be able to be in a pack with my brother.”

Stiles paced around to the amusement of Peter. He wanted to reach out to the wolf for comfort but he needed to keep moving. Derek was growing impatient and he was confused as to why he was explaining these things now.

“I was going to tell Scott about my magic but for some reason, every time I went to do so, I hesitated. Instinct or whatever, something told me not to,” Stiles continued. “According to Scott, being bitten was the worst thing to have happened to him. All he wanted was to be human again. Which was all hypocritical since the guy took advantage of all the perks that came with being a wolf. But the more he complained, the more I knew I couldn’t tell him. He thought wolves were monsters and the Argents were good people. But they killed your family and in turn killed my mom. He … No matter what we said, Allison was the only important thing and he wouldn’t leave her.”

“After realizing Scott never wanted a pack, kept rejecting you, kept rejecting his wolf, it was too late for me to go back on the suppressants. My magic was out. It’s growing stronger and I couldn’t hide it anymore. Enough of the suppressants were out of my system that someone like Deaton was able to recognize the spark of magic inside of me and that’s why he got me to make a ring of mountain ash around the rave when we were trying to trap Jackson.”

“I thought during all of the Kanima mess that maybe Scott had finally started to accept everything. I thought I was seeing signs he was so I was trying to convince myself to let him know. My magic was growing and I knew I needed to anchor myself to a pack sooner rather than later. But Scott … he never answered my calls. Never wanted to hang out. Everything about our dynamic was changing.”

“I was going to tell you, Derek, before the whole pool thing. I was working up to it. You had a pack and while it was young and volatile, I knew it would be good. But …”

Stiles looked over to Derek and swallowed the lump in his throat at the look he was getting. He could see the tension running through the Alpha. He could feel the building anger and low-grade betrayal, and it made him doubt the decision of talking to him about everything. But it was too late now.

Shaking that thought off, Stiles continued, “The reason why I waited until now to say something was partly due to me not being able to willingly access my magic. There was still too much of the suppressant in my system. But also partly because I had to wait. I wasn’t in a position to just speak about all of this freely. This afternoon I had a meeting with the Grand Council. They knew my magic was more active and they wanted to know my intentions. Because the Stilinski’s have always been in charge of Beacon County alongside the Hale’s, I decided to take back my birthright and claim the territory as my own.”

Red eyes blazed and Derek snarled, brandishing lengthening fangs. Stiles inhaled sharply at the reaction.

“Beacon Hills is Hale territory!” Derek roared.

Peter was in front of Stiles instantly.

“Nephew, enough. There has always been two families in charge,” Peter explained. “Both families have always worked together.”

“Then why was _she_ able to get so close to us?” Derek growled.

Why was Kate able to get so close to _him_? Stiles heard the question and he flinched back. He couldn’t answer that. He had been a kid at the time and wasn’t even in town.

“You’re not pack, Stiles. Beacon Hills will never belong to you,” Derek declared.

Magic ripped out of him violently, throwing the two wolves away from him. He couldn’t stop it from happening. A single thread in his chest he hadn’t been aware of snapped and with it, whatever little control Stiles thought he had.

Furniture was thrown around and shredded while the floor to ceiling windows splintered. Angry sparks danced through the air. The building shook and groaned while the clear summer sky darkened. Rain lashed out sharply and flashes of lightning lit up the sky. Stiles tried to fight against his magic and the effort caused blood to drip from his nose. He cried out as pain flared across his battered body.

Hands cupped his neck and his attention zoned in on the bright blue eyes glowing in front of him.

“Breathe, Stiles.”

Stiles whimpered as another wave of magic forced its way out of him. There was a threatening groan from the building as cracks ran across the floor and walls.

Thumbs caressed the delicate skin on his skin and a forehead pressed against his.

“Breathe. You can control this, pet,” Peter encouraged.

Stiles took a ragged breath in.

“There we go. Again,” Peter encouraged.

Stiles followed Peter’s instructions over and over until he was breathing easier and his magic was pulled back to a calmer state. When it was over, he slumped against the older wolf, shaking. Outside, they sky settled and the only evidence left behind of the storm were puddles quickly drying in the summer heat.

Derek said nothing as Peter gathered Stiles up and they left.

Peter sat the teen in the passenger seat and knelt in front of him. It was a relief to be away from the thundering rage. His empathy quietened with only Peter nearby but the damage had already been done. He was Alphaless. He was packless. Whatever relationship he had built with Derek was completely ruined.

He had no one to blame but himself. If only he had said something sooner. If only he hadn’t said anything at all.

“Listen to me, dear boy. Ignore what Derek said. You are pack, okay?” Peter told him.

_Lies._

“Can you just take me home?” Stiles asked dejectedly.

Peter pursed his lips but nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left a comment welcoming this fic back!!! Also to everyone who has liked the first chapter, both new and old readers. It means so much to me.
> 
> Feedback is great and editing was done by me so forgive me for any mistakes made (though do let me know if there are any mistakes that make an impact/make things confusing etc)

The next week went by in a daze. He couldn’t say whether or not his father came home, couldn’t say whether or not he slept or ate. The one thing he was certain on was that Peter was there with him. Peter didn’t make any demands of him, nor did he expect anything from him while Stiles tried to cope with the broken bond.

For the first time in weeks, his magic was completely silent. It was hurting and only wanted to hide away after Derek had rejected him and broken the pack bond Stiles still had to the Hales. The effect of his magic stepping back in mourning had him feeling listless and lost. More often than not, he spent the day on the couch, not really taking anything in.

Sleep only brought more nightmares and not even Peter’s presence at night could shun them away. In his dreams, he was beaten by Gerard while the pack watched and when he reached out, there were sneers. The pack turned away from him. Those were the easier ones to deal with. The worst was when he dreamed that he had somehow managed to get away from the hunter and ended up at the Hale house. It was whole and just like he remembered. However, flames would erupt and he couldn’t move. He was forced to watch the house burn and listen to screams.

Those screams would inevitably turn accusing. They demanded to know why he hadn’t saved them. Why hadn’t he been there? Why hadn’t he stopped the hunters from getting close?

Why? Why? Why?

The dark shadows underneath his eyes grew darker, and with it, a lack of appetite. It was easier to ignore needing to look after himself when no one was around.

Midway through the second week, Stiles found himself alone and he couldn’t stand being home any longer. He pocketed his phone, keys, and wallet, and left. Instead of driving his Jeep, he chose to walk. He let his mind wonder and didn’t focus where his feet was leading him. He felt unanchored and lost at sea.

When he stopped, he was standing in front of his mother’s grave. It hurt so much to even think about her. A part of him still loved her so very much but that love brought about confusion. She had gradually forgotten who he was and before he had been hospitalized, their time together had brought so much turmoil and pain. Every memory he had of her was tainted by hands trying to kill him and a voice screaming that he was a demon trying to kill her.

A lingering breeze had Stiles tilting his head. The natural magic surrounding him tugged him away from the cemetery and towards the preserve. With exhaustion clinging to his bones, Stiles didn’t even fight the pull. More magic welcomed him as he walked through the trees but his never replied. It remained hidden besides his heart, rejection still ripe in memory.

It was magic that kept him upright when he tripped and stumbled. It was magic that continued to egg him on when he grew too tired to put another step forward. This continued on until he had reached the clearing the Nemeton sat in.

With a sigh, Stiles approached the stump. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. What was he supposed to say? Sorry? The Stilinski’s had promised the land their protection and they failed. They hadn’t been able to protect the Hale’s when it counted the most and then to add insult to injury, had chosen to hide and save their own hides.

Sullenly, Stiles took a seat between two thick roots and pushed his magic out. At first, there was no reaction but gradually, the excess magic that had accumulated over the last week poured into the Nemeton. The weak entity welcomed the boost of power and the sickness inside was pushed back once again.

Energy faded fast and for the first time in weeks, Stiles didn’t fight against falling asleep.

*

Waking up with a roof over his head and encased in man-made comfort was disorientating. The lingering scent around him was familiar but for the life of him, he couldn’t place it. Before opening his eyes, he focused on what he could remember before he fell asleep but as far as he was aware, he was supposed to be with the Nemeton and what was left of the ancient tree couldn’t materialize things like a bed.

When he finally convinced himself to look around, he didn’t recognize the room.

With a grown, he pushed himself out of bed and wiped his face. He wasn’t in the jeans and t-shirt he had left the house in and now wore a v-neck shirt that fell off one shoulder and a pair of thin sweat pants.

Tiredly confused, he ventured out of the room into an open spaced living area. Every piece of furniture looked expensive and luxurious. Floor to ceiling windows lined the living room but what caught his attention was an entire wall dedicated to shelves full of books. Without even bothering to look for whoever lived there, he shuffled his way over and started browsing the titles.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.”

Stiles barely flinched but his heart rate ratcheted up. He continued to glance over the titles on the current shelf he was on before turning to look at Peter.

“Where are we?” Stiles asked, voice hoarse.

“My apartment,” Peter answered.

Stiles frowned and looked around.

“I’ve spent the time since my resurrection restoring my identity and sorting out my accounts, including purchasing the apartment,” Peter explained.

“That quickly?”

“If you know the right people,” Peter answered.

Stiles nodded. “How did I get here?”

“I found you asleep at the Nemeton. When I got you here, I managed to wake you up long enough to wash and change,” Peter said.

Stiles watched as Peter finally approached. The wolf reached out and caressed the darkened skin underneath a golden brown colored eye with a frown. With a huff, Stiles turned away and focused back on the books.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Peter noted.

Stiles shrugged. Despite stepping away from the touch, Stiles could feel his magic groggily wake up and slowly stretch out willingly. It felt sluggish as it curled around the wolf’s wrists shyly.

He pulled out a book from the shelf and flipped through the pages, trying to ignore how right it felt.

“Sleep is kind of pointless with nightmares disturbing it,” Stiles shrugged. “I wasn’t close enough to Talia that her death and Laura’s inheritance had any effect like it did with mom. As long as whoever the current Alpha was never outright rejected me, I guess I was safe from my magic burning up. But, you know, Derek. It might be better if you keep your distance from now on. I don’t know how long I’ll –”

“Can you read that?” Peter asked, standing closer.

“Some of the symbols do look familiar but I can’t tell you what they say, it’s been too long. I remember there had been books like this at home but they all disappeared when we went into hiding,” Stiles answered.

“Will you be getting any of them back?” Peter checked.

Slipping the book back in its place, Stiles shrugged. “I would rather not talk to the Grand Council to find that out.”

Peter hummed inquisitively as he led Stiles over to the couch. They sat with their shoulders pressed against each other.

“My grandmother is still a part of it and my uncle is a part of the Royal Council. Both have kept their distance in the last eight years when they could have checked in every now and then if they agreed to not use their magic in or around the county,” Stiles explained, barely hiding his bitterness.

“Family can be … complicated,” Peter cautiously said.

Stiles snorted. “Sure. That’s one way to call it. Why’d you bring me here and not back home?”

“I always was going to invite you over. You are my favorite pack member,” Peter said.

“I’m not pack. Derek made that loud and clear, remember. I don’t want handouts,” Stiles growled.

“Whatever I offer you, will never be a handout. I will always care about you, dear boy, and make no mistake, you have and will always be pack.”

Stiles glared at his lap. “I’m not pack, Peter. Not anymore. Please, just stop. Where are my belongings?”

“On the bedside table,” Peter answered.

Tiredly, Stiles left the comfort of the couch and retrieved his belongings. When he came back out, Peter pulled him in close.

“You’re my pack,” Peter admitted quietly.

Stiles whimpered and the hold on him tightened. After clenching and unclenching his fists a few times, he raised his hands and gripped Peter’s shirt tightly. A fledgling bond connecting him to Peter peeked through and shone brighter. It was warm and accepting, and Stiles latched on desperately. However, if he were to burn or find another group to anchor himself to, that connection would only cause the wolf pain. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Peter.

It’s with that thought that Stiles released his grip on the bond and stood back, keeping his eyes diverted.

“You should stay away from now. Bye, Peter.”

His magic raged inside of him as he left the apartment. His body shook as he walked away from the building. Stiles forced himself to continue moving, refusing to fall apart in public.

It took over an hour of stopping and starting before he finally reached home. In the confines of his bedroom, he allowed everything that had happened to wash over him. Thick tears ran down his cheeks and his magic swirled around him, trashing his room.

Needing to go back to being numb, Stiles rushed downstairs and pulled out a bottle of whiskey from his dad’s liquor cabinet and left through the backdoor. He made his way through the preserve backing the property. The playful magic that usually swirled around him was quiet. It brushed up against his arms and back to simply let him know it was there and wasn’t going away.

As he walked, he took mouthfuls from the bottle. The liquid burned on the way down but it didn’t deter him from drinking more. By the time he made it to the remains of the Hale house, he had worked up a nice buzz. Rubbing his eyes, he was drunkenly surprised to find his hand come back wet. He hadn’t been aware he was crying again.

Even under the influence of alcohol he could still sense so much fear and pain in the remains. Sudden rage engulfed him and he threw the bottle against a burned wall. He slammed his magic against everything and screamed.

How dare the Argents burn away his family! How dare they leave him behind! How dare Scott choose an Argent over his brother! How dare his father choose the bottle and work! How dare his family choose magic!

The one person who wanted him and Stiles couldn’t allow that to continue on. If he was going to burn, the last thing he wanted to do was drag Peter down with him.

Screaming, he fell to his knees and his magic faded back inside of him.

Feeling overwhelmingly sober again, he pulled himself back to his feet and made his way inside the Hale house. Upstairs and into one of the last rooms still with a floor and ceiling, he found a mattress and curled up on top of it.

What he wouldn’t give to go back to his childhood.

*

Bright light woke Stiles up and he groaned. Staring up at the ceiling, he sighed. It tasted like something had died in his mouth and there was a dull ache pounding against his temples. With much effort, he left the Hale house and trudged his way through the preserve. Without even realizing it, he made his way to the Nemeton. Just like his previous visit, he poured some of his magic into the stump. His offering was welcomed but it came with questions. Was he okay? What was wrong? How can it help?

Stiles almost sobbed. He was so tired.

Without answering any question, he sat on the edge of the stump and buried his face in his hands.

Whining drew his attention. Standing in the clearing was a dark grey wolf with startling blue eyes. The wolf ducked its head and folded ears back. Stiles watched it stepped closer only to step back in uncertainty. The nudge of his magic told him who it was.

“Peter?” he asked hoarsely.

The wolf whined in response.

“Why are you here?”

Peter slowly approached and nudged his knee.

“Not giving up, huh?” Stiles asked.

This time, he received a lick across the back of his hand as an answer.

“If I don’t find an Alpha, you’ll burn with me if we stay connected. Do you understand? I can’t … I refuse to do that to you again,” Stiles sobbed.

He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling.

“Pet, look at me.”

Stiles glanced up and made a choked off sound as cheeks burned from the sight of the naked man.

“I won’t do anything without your consent. If you truly wish for me to back off, then I will. But just remember, you are my pack and I want to help you in any way possible. If I have to find a way to become an Alpha again or find us another Alpha to follow, I will,” Peter told him.

“Why?”

“You’ve always been important to me, pet,” Peter answered.

Stiles studied those blue eyes staring at him intently. He watched as Peter reached out and cupped his cheek tenderly.

“I’ll help you find an Alpha so please don’t leave me behind,” Peter requested.

Unable to hold back, he wrapped his arms around the wolf and held on tightly. He could never deny Peter. Magic wrapped around the both of them, warming them up.

“Peter, you’re naked,” Stiles pointed out.

“I’m aware.”

“Oh, good,” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry. While you’re underage, I won’t do anything. I’ll shift back once you let go,” Peter said.

“I’m eighteen,” Stiles told him.

“I still won’t do anything without your explicit consent,” Peter reassured.

With a sigh, he rubbed his cheek against Peter’s, reflecting on the numerous of times they had done so when he was a kid.

“Are you sure you want to risk staying with me?” Stiles checked.

“Always.”

Stiles pulled back and bit his bottom lip.

“Um. My place? Or …”

Peter rubbed his hand across Stiles’s neck. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to accompany you back to yours. I’ll stay as a wolf.”

Stiles nodded with a small smile.

In a blink of an eye, the grey wolf was standing before him again. There was a playful tinge to the magic swirling around them and he could sense Peter had picked up on that. The wolf stepped back, tail wagging, and barked.

With a smile, Stiles stood and said, “Race you back?”

Laughing, he bolted from the Nemeton, magic guiding him across the forest floor.

*

Stiles was resting on the couch after cleaning the kitchen. He’d only stopped because the pain spreading across his chest could no longer be ignored. In the last two days, he had pushed his body a little too much too soon. The run with Peter had left him in agony but at least he had a werewolf with their pain draining abilities to help.

He still needed to do a load of washing, make a few meals that his dad could take during the week, clean the bathroom, vacuum the downstairs floor, and grocery shop.

Growling at his obnoxious cast, he slumped in the couch, which was followed by hissing as he jostled his ribs.

Biting his bottom lip, Stiles got off the couch and went through the fridge and cupboards. With his phone in hand, he slowly made a grocery list. He contemplated calling Peter to ask for a ride to the store but rubbing the back of his neck, he decided not to. If he could catch his dad when he came home later, then he could get his dad to drive him.

With a grocery list made, he decided to tend to the laundry. When he went to pick up the basket, pain flared through his chest. Closing his eyes, he leant against the nearby wall and panted.

Stiles cursed and wiped his face.

Trying to breathe evenly and slowly, he shuffled back to the couch and eased himself down.

When there was a knock on the door, he bit back a sob. The thought of getting up again made me cringe but that didn’t matter since whoever was at the door decided to let themselves in.

Without saying a word, Peter sat down on the couch and pulled him on to his lap. Hands slipped underneath his shirt and ran up his spine. Pain left his body and he slumped against the wolf.

“This is a lot,” Peter noted.

“I had to clean the kitchen and do the laundry,” Stiles murmured.

“Couldn’t it have been left for your father?” Peter asked.

Stiles snorted. “He doesn’t really know how.”

“Surely John has helped out around the house,” Peter said, frowning.

“Housework and cooking has been my thing since … Can we just stop talking about all of this?” Stiles asked.

“Sure, sweetheart.”

Stiles nuzzled against Peter’s neck and sighed. He was feeling light and sleepy.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Stiles murmured.

“I wanted to check in on you,” Peter answered.

“You didn’t need to,” Stiles said.

“You’re an injured pack mate. You’re lucky I haven’t moved in,” Peter said.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to be babysat.”

Peter squeezed the back of his neck. “It’s not babysitting. All I want to do is look after you. Whether that would be feeding you, taking your pain, making sure you slept – whatever you need.”

Stiles bit his bottom lip. It had been so long since someone wanted to do things for him.

“How about this – come over to the apartment when you’re left alone here. You can read any book from my library, practice your magic, and just rest knowing someone is there with you. If you need to go somewhere or come back here, I can drive you,” Peter suggested.

It didn’t take long for Stiles to agree. Not being alone was appealing. Scott wasn’t contacting him, none of the betas or Derek wanted anything to do with him, even his father preferred to be at work then be with him.

“Did you want to come over today or would you rather stay here?” Peter checked.

“I still have a few things to do around here, then I need to go grocery shopping and make some meals for dad,” Stiles said.

“What needs to be done urgently? Have you a grocery list?” Peter asked.

“Yeah. Um … laundry, I guess.”

“Okay. I’ll deal with the laundry while you rest and then we’ll go to the shops,” Peter said.

“You don’t need to,” Stiles murmured.

“I know,” Peter said.

He was moved back on to the couch as Peter stood. Looking up at the wolf, Stiles bit his bottom lip. A part of him knew he needed to rest and that he needed help but another part of him didn’t want to rely on anyone to do things he should be able to do.

Sighing, Peter ran a hand over Stiles’s head and dragged it down to his shoulder.

“Be a good boy and rest. We can stop and get curly fries after grocery shopping if you do,” Peter said.

A light blush stained Stiles’s cheeks and he found himself nodding in agreement.

Peter gave him a knowing smile and left him be. Not knowing what to do, Stiles turned the TV on and tried to get his heartbeat under control. He didn’t understand his reaction to being told to be a good boy. It was certainly not something he expected.

But the thought of following Peter’s instructions and making the wolf happy made him feel warm and excited.

Gradually, as sounds of Peter moving around the house helped him keep track of the wolf, he found himself relaxing. Pain was still absent and it was a nice break.

Once Peter was done, he came back with Stiles’s shoes and helped the teen in them. He handed over Stiles’s wallet, phone, and keys. Stiles gave him a thankful smile and checked how much money he had in his wallet before going to the drawer his dad usually left money in for groceries. However, there was nothing there, which would make sense considering how little time the man spent at home these days.

“Sweetheart?”

“It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

He had enough money for half of the things he had wanted to get. On the drive over, he went through his grocery list and debated what he could get rid of or substitute with something cheaper. He chewed on his thumb as he thought about it.

“Don’t take anything off your list. Let me deal with it,” Peter said.

Stiles clenched his jaw and said, “I can pay you back.”

“I don’t want your money,” Peter said.

Peter reached over and gripped the back of his neck, his thumb soothing circles. Slowly, his body relaxed.

“Remember when I said I wanted to look after you?” Peter asked.

Stiles nodded.

“This is a part of it.”

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable with you spending money on me,” Stiles admitted.

“I have enough money that whatever you could ask for, including college fees, won’t even make a dent,” Peter said.

Stiles pursed his lips.

“It’s only groceries, pet,” Peter gently said.

Stiles remained silent and stared out of the passenger window. If he didn’t accept Peter’s help, he wouldn’t be able to get everything he needed to ensure his dad would eat right. Eventually, he murmured out an okay and Peter reached over to squeeze his thigh reassuringly.

At the grocery store, Peter grabbed a trolley and followed him around. The wolf occasionally made a suggestion for a better alternative and helped with the heavy lifting or reaching up to the higher shelves. When he sensed the pain was building across Stiles’s chest again, Peter encircled fingers around his wrist and took the pain. He gave him an appreciative smile and knocked their shoulders together.

At the register, the moment the cashier caught sight of Peter and a flirtatious smile appeared on her face, Stiles couldn’t help but sidle up to the wolf with a glare to the woman. It absolutely amused his companion. With a smirk, Peter nuzzled his temple and began putting the grocery bags into the trolley before paying.

“Don’t say a word,” Stiles murmured in the car.

“Wasn’t going to, dear,” Peter smirked.

Stiles rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone as it vibrated in his pocket.

“Hey, dad,” Stiles answered.

 _“Stiles, where are you?”_ John asked.

“On my way home. I needed to get groceries,” Stiles answered.

_“Who took you?”_

“Peter did.”

 _“He’s still in town?”_ John asked, barely hiding his surprise.

“Yes? Why wouldn’t he be?” Stiles asked.

There was a moment of silence before his dad huffed. _“You should have waited for me to come home to go.”_

Stiles frowned. “I was going to but I didn’t know if you’d be back and we really needed the groceries and Peter volunteered to take me.”

 _“Look,”_ John sighed. _“From now on, make sure you tell me if you’re going out.”_

“Dad?”

_“I don’t want you alone with him without me knowing where exactly you are, Stiles, so just do as I say.”_

Stiles pursed his lips.

 _“Look, I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be home for dinner tonight. I only came home to change into a clean uniform. You also don’t need to worry about making dinner for me as well. Scott’s been coming to the station with food Melissa has made,”_ John explained.

Stiles could feel his heart constrict.

“You’ve seen Scott?” Stiles asked quietly.

 _“Yes. He told me he’s been giving you space since you don’t seem yourself these days. Said something about you trying to ruin his relationship with Allison because of jealousy or possessiveness or something?_ ” John said.

Stiles clenched his eyes closed and hunched his shoulders as much as his sore ribs would allow.

“Dad, Allison is an Argent. She –”

 _“Not all of them are like Kate and Gerard, Stiles. The world needs hunters to keep creatures in line,”_ John said.

Something in Stiles hardened and he growled, “No, dad. Hunters need to be reminded that they aren’t in charge of this world and I’ll make damn sure none of them, including little Miss Allison, get away from hurting the innocent again. Beacon County is mine and if anyone steps out of line again, they’ll be answering to me.”

 _“So, it’s true then. What mom told me? You’ve become the guardian,”_ John said, voice strained. _“That’s not what I wanted for you, kid. The Hale’s were gone and we were able to be on the suppressants to have a normal life.”_

“I’ve got to go.”

He glared at his phone when his dad tried calling him again. After rejecting the call, he turned his phone off.

“Can we go to the preserve?” Stiles quietly asked.

“Of course,” Peter answered.

Peter made the turn and drove towards the preserve. They drove along the tree line before turning onto the road leading up to the Hale house.

Stiles stepped out of the car and walked into the trees. A dark grey wolf joined him a moment later. The magic of the preserve greeted them but it shied away from his anger. Sparks were snapping down his arms and his fists were shaking. Every now and then, Peter brushed up against him, letting him know he wasn’t alone before trotting off ahead of the teen.

Once they made it to the Nemeton clearing, they stopped. Stiles approached the stump and chewed on his lip. He was so angry with his dad. How could the man defend hunters like that? Hunters had destroyed everything. Hunters had targeted innocent werewolves and that resulted in his mother dying. As a Stilinski, they were supposed to remain impartial and protect the innocent.

And Scott? His brother? What in the world was he thinking? He was giving Stiles space? More like he was completely ignoring him. They were supposed to be brothers and best friends, and Scott was accusing him of ruining his relationship with a girl that hunted them all done on the word of a psychopathic man. All Stiles had ever done was try to protect and make him happy. He had done everything in his power to help them stay together and stay safe, and what did his efforts get in return?

The thought that his father wanted Scott as a son over him caused Stiles to fold over with a whimper.

Fury and hurt had him screaming and his magic exploded out of him. It slammed against the tree line and rushed upwards. The preserve kept his magic from escaping the clearing and eventually funneled it into the Nemeton.

When he stopped, he was left panting and swaying. Arms wrapped around him from behind and he was too out of it to be concerned about the naked body pressing against his back.

“Breathe, pet,” Peter murmured.

A hand moved underneath his shirt and came to rest on his stomach while the other stayed over his heart. It was easy to focus on the points where he was being touched to anchor his mind and anchor.

They stayed like that until Stiles and his magic was absolutely settled. The outburst had left him exhausted.

He was lifted on to Peter’s back and they made their way back through the preserve to the Hale house where they had parked. He tucked his face against the wolf’s neck and closed his eyes.

Peter placed him on the passenger seat and moved to the driver’s side, dressed, and drove them back into town. They didn’t discuss where they were going and for that Stiles was thankful. He was more than happy to let his companion take charge.

It came as a relief when they pulled up at the apartment. The groceries that had been bought for the Stilinski men were brought up with them and put away. While Peter did that, Stiles sat on the couch, hugging his knees.

The numbness that had overtaken him after Derek had rejected him made an appearance. It helped pushed away thoughts of his father and Scott. It helped him stop going over every conversation he’s had with his family since the murders started. It helped stopped the pain from suffocating him.

He wasn’t alone on the couch for long. Peter laid out on his back and pulled him to lay on top of him. He kept his ear pressed against the left side of the chest underneath his head in order to focus on that steady heartbeat. Arms wrapped around him and fingers skated across his skin.

*

Stiles spent the next two weeks hanging out in Peter’s apartment, reading through the man’s library. When his father finally had a day off, he forced himself to stay home. However, he barricaded himself in his room and focused on whatever book he had borrowed. It wasn’t hard to step away considering the man spent the day drinking. It was better to hide away in his room than to face any drunken scrutiny.

Every time his dad caught him using magic, it was accompanied with a disapproving look and the suppressants were brought up. The Sheriff wanted him to start taking the tablets again and hide his magic away. He argued that it still wasn’t safe for them to be out in public. Stiles argued that the threats from before had been dealt with. Peter had killed Kate and Gerard had been killed by Scott’s actions so any threat coming into town were now his responsibility to deal with.

The only escape he had was Peter’s apartment.

When the day to remove the horrible green cast finally arrived, he didn’t bother asking his dad to take him to the hospital. Peter had already assumed he’d be taking him to the appointment.

“You don’t need to come in with me,” Stiles said.

“Nonsense,” Peter dismissed.

With a bounce in his step, he went into the hospital with Peter following close behind him. Once the cast was removed, he would finally be able to drive his beloved Jeep again.

It wasn’t long until the doctor called for him and they went into the examination room. The moment the cast came off, he noticed the wolf scrunching up his face. It didn’t take long after that for the smell to become obvious to him.

“Oh god,” Stiles gagged.

The doctor grimaced a little but remained professional. “Feel free to use the sink.”

Stiles scrubbed his arm with the soap with the single minded purpose of getting rid of the stink as much as possible. Once dried, he was taken back to get an x-ray and led back to the examination room.

“Your wrist has healed nicely, however, you’ll still need to be careful for the next couple of weeks to avoid damaging the healed bone. If there are any problems, please do come back,” the doctor said.

“Thanks, doc.”

“How are the ribs holding up?” the doctor asked.

“They’re still a bit tender but doing better,” Stiles answered.

“Mind if I have a look?”

He nodded and removed his shirt. The bruising along his rib cage had faded and the doctor was happy with how the bones were healing.

“Come back next week and we’ll have a look at how they’ve healed with an x-ray but from what I can feel, everything is healing perfectly,” the doctor said. “Remember to be careful. No wrestling around or sports for the rest of the summer.”

“No worries, doc.”

On the way out, they were stopped by someone calling Stiles’s name. Turning around, he tensed as Melissa McCall made her way from the nearby nurse’s station.

“Stiles, is everything okay?” Melissa asked.

“Yep,” Stiles answered.

“How is your arm and ribs? I haven’t seen you in a while but I know Scott has been spending a lot of time with Allison,” she said.

She glanced over to Peter and her eyes narrowed as he placed a hand on his lower back.

“Oh, uh, yeah. No more cast, so yay? I need to say thank you for making sure dad was eating something that wasn’t take-out. He told me today Scotty was bringing over food for him that you’d cook.”

“Huh, I was wondering where the left overs were going …” Melissa murmured.

Stiles frowned. “We got to go. See ya later, Mrs. McCall.”

Melissa frowned and looked between the two like she wanted to argue but Peter steered him out of the hospital before she could.

In the car, he ran a hand over his face and sighed. He shouldn’t have been so surprised he’d run into her. Mrs. McCall worked just as much as his dad did some days in order to make ends meet.

“Dare I ask if you’re hungry,” Peter checked, running his hand over Stiles’s hair.

“I could eat,” Stiles said. “Can we stop off at the bookstore as well?”

“Of course.”

Stiles settled back in the seat and fiddled with his phone. The run in with Mrs. McCall had gotten him thinking. Maybe if he reached out to his friend then they’d be able to sort out what ever misconceptions were floating around.

Biting his bottom lip, he typed up a message.

 **To Scotty:**  
Hey, man. Game night this weekend?

 **To Stiles:**  
Can’t

Stiles frowned at the text. There hadn’t even been a reason. His mood soured even more and he pocketed his phone, turning his attention to the passing scenery.

“Sweetheart?”

“Don’t worry about it, Peter,” Stiles dismissed.

At the next red light, Peter reached over and ran a hand over his head to the back of his neck and squeezed reassuringly. The action helped him relax and ease his mood to a more neutral state.

“Food or books first?” Peter asked.

“Food,” Stiles answered.

Peter took him to the diner and seeing that it was his favorite one in town, perked his mood up. Amusement tugged at the corner of Peter’s lips and he placed a hand on the small of Stiles’s back as they entered the diner.

“Stiles! It’s good to see you, dear.”

An older waitress with wispy blond hair cut just below her ears made a bee line for Stiles as soon as he entered. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged tightly before stepping back and cupping his cheeks.

“Hey, Gaby. How have you been?” Stiles asked.

“Good, hun. What’s with these bags under your eyes?”

“Oh, you know me. Got pulled into a research binge one too many times,” Stiles lied.

The older woman gave him a stern look and said, “You need to look after yourself more, dear. Go pick a seat and I’ll be right with you with a couple of menus.”

“Thanks.”

Stiles grabbed Peter’s wrist and dragged him to a booth by the window. It was his favorite spot as it gave him a view of the outside world and he had fond memories of sitting there with people who had mattered to him.

“Come here often, sweetheart?” Peter asked.

“Not so much these days but I’ve been coming here since I was a kid,” Stiles explained.

Gaby came over with a couple of menus and a milkshake for Stiles. “Here you go, sweetie.”

When he opened his mouth to protest that he hadn’t ordered the drink, she cut him off. “Just take it.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said, smiling widely.

“I take it you want the usual?” Gaby asked.

“Yeah, please,” he answered.

“And for your friend?”

“Burger with the lot, medium rare if you would, a side of curly fries, and a cup of black coffee,” Peter answered.

“Sure thing. Anything else?”

“We’re good, thanks Gaby,” Stiles replied.

With a squeeze of Stiles’s shoulder, the waitress left them and he dug into his over the top milkshake.

“Want some?” he offered, pushing the cup over.

Peter took a seat and grimaced a little. “Sweet.”

“Sure is,” Stiles chuckled. “Oreos, chocolate, and caramel.”

Something in the air caused him to sit up and glance outside. His magic tingled but whatever had gotten his attention didn’t feel like an immediate danger and passed by a second later.

“Sweetheart?”

“It’s nothing, I think,” Stiles answered. “My magic has been a little … off. I thought I sensed something but I guess not.”

“Trust your instincts,” Peter advised.

Stiles shrugged dismissively. It was hard to trust anything with his magic. Losing control was becoming more frequent, more so when he was alone. Sometimes the attacks were small, other times they were big enough that the only way he regained control again was passing out.

“Why haven’t you been sleeping and please don’t tell me it’s because of a research binge,” Peter asked.

Once again, he shrugged. “Too many reasons, I guess. I get trapped in my head when I’m home.”

Before Peter could respond, Gaby was coming over with their lunch. “Here you go, sweethearts. Give me a wave if you need anything else.”

“Thanks, Gaby. Pass on our compliments to Arwyn,” Stiles said with a smile.

“Will do.” She ruffled his hair as she left.

“Pet, I want you to do something for me. When you can’t sleep, tell me,” Peter requested.

Stiles blinked. “Why? I already spend the majority of the day reading at your apartment and annoying you. I have nightmares every night so what’s the point of making you tired as well?”

Peter leant over the table and ran a thumb along the dark shadows lining one of the teen’s eyes.

Turning his head away, Stiles murmured, “Okay.”

“Good boy.”

A rosy blush blossomed across his cheeks and he ducked down to hide the reaction.

“How did you find this place?” Peter asked, changing the subject.

“Mom and dad used to take me here. Sometimes I was left here when they needed to do something, more so after mom died and dad remembered he shouldn’t be leaving me home alone or spend all my time at the station,” Stiles answered.

Peter frowned as he watched Stiles dig into his meal.

“It was fine. This place is owned by a couple of Brownies and the cook is part Fae, and it attracts others in this world. Most were happy to entertain me with stories or teach me something or simply listened when I talked,” Stiles shrugged.

“Interesting,” Peter noted, taking a sip of his coffee.

Stiles studied the wolf in front of him. He could see he wasn’t happy with the Sheriff and was barely holding back what he wanted to say on the matter. So, to take the matter off of Peter’s mind, he launched into stories he had about the place.

Once they were finished and their meals paid for courtesy of Peter, they walked down the street to the bookstore. Immediately, his attention was taken by the books. A few titles piqued his interest and he piled them into a basket. Peter mostly let him be, occasionally dropping a book in the basket. When it looked like it was getting too heavy, the basket was taken from him.

Halfway through the shop, he stopped and took in the amount of books in the basket. He bit his thumb before gesturing for Peter to drop the basket and he sorted through the books, trying to decide what he really wanted and what could wait. His budget wouldn’t allow him to get so many books. Thinking about how much money he had in his account, Stiles decided he would need to write some more papers to sell soon.

“Were there any other books you wanted to get?” Peter asked, picking up the basket.

“Um. No. I need to put some of these back,” Stiles said.

Peter hummed. “I think not.”

“Excuse me?”

Ignoring Stiles, Peter continued on down the aisle with the basket, getting drawn in by a blurb or two.

“Go see if there’s anything else you’d like,” Peter said when Stiles only continued to look unsure.

Grumbling, he continued looking through the shop, trailing a finger along the shelf as he took in the titles. Truth be told, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t read. Everything caught his attention.

In the end, he picked out another three books before rejoining Peter again. There was almost a satisfied air radiating from the wolf that made Stiles roll his eyes. He brushed their shoulders together and waited for the transaction to be completed.

As they walked down the street, arms brushed against each other, something tugged on Stiles’s awareness. Magic swirled around in the air and he turned to look back down the street. Ignoring his companion, he followed where the magic told him to go.

Coming up to the end of the footpath, the magic stopped. Stiles blinked and glanced around in confusion. There was no one around, nothing else to draw his attention. Scratching his head, he tried to sweep his magic out to look for clues.

“Stiles!”

Snapping back to what was in his immediate vicinity, he turned to Peter. The wolf looked cautiously worried.

“Where were you going?” Peter asked.

“I … don’t know,” Stiles admitted.

“You don’t know?”

“There was magic telling me to follow it, that there was something here that I needed to see but …” Stiles swept his arms around to signal there was nothing.

His phone ringing caused him to jump. Unsure of who would be calling him, he stared at his phone with a frown. Another unknown number. He bit his bottom lip, hesitating on the off chance of another family member calling him.

In the end, curiosity won out.

_“Young Mieczyslaw?”_

The familiar accent confused him. “Uncle Duke? Why are you calling me? How’d you find my number?”

 _“I wanted to give you a heads up, little one. The Grand Council are nervous about the recent events in Beacon Hills and are sending someone to investigate and intervene to ensure humans there remain oblivious,”_ Uncle Duke answered.

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. “No one’s said anything to me.”

_“I’m aware. From what I’ve been told, the Grand Council informed Alan Deaton about their decision weeks ago.”_

“Deaton was removed as guardian a month ago. This is my territory, Uncle Duke. They can’t …”

Peter reached out and gripped his neck reassuringly.

_“We’ve all heard troubling things about Beacon Hills. Argents, a Kanima, and so many deaths in such a short time makes us all worried.”_

“Those things have been dealt with. You know as well as I do that Beacon Hills has always been an exception to certain rules. People here are already in the know,” Stiles tried.

_“I am not the one to be convinced of this, little one.”_

“I know. I’m sorry,” Stiles murmured.

 _“Do you wish for some assistance?”_ Uncle Duke offered.

“I … I will need to talk to the local Alpha,” Stiles answered.

 _“Of course. You may reach me on this number any time. You still have family with the packs up here, do not forget,”_ Uncle Duke.

“Thanks.”

After ending the call, he slumped against Peter and sighed heavily.

“Let’s go home,” Peter gently said.

Stiles nodded and grudgingly pulled back. Peter kept him close with a hand on his back as they walked to the car. The bag of books was placed into the backseat and Peter drove them to the apartment, grip on the steering wheel not relaxing. Once inside, Stiles immediately went to the living room window, took out his phone, and called Elysia.

“Stiles? I thought my number was private,” Elysia said.

“Sounds like you don’t want to be contacted by your grandson,” Stiles snapped. “It’s amazing what you can find out when you’re motivated to avoid certain people. Why wasn’t I informed there was an investigation ordered for Beacon Hills?” Stiles asked.

“It was sanctioned before you were declared guardian. The information had been sent to Alan Deaton.”

Stiles growled in frustration. “I’m well aware of that face but that doesn’t answer my question. Why wasn’t I told at the meeting or any other time afterwards? I was told Henrietta would be making the transition easier for me and nothing. Who is the one performing the investigation?”

There was silence on the other end of the line and his magic reacted in frustrated anger. Lights flickered and burned brighter each time.

“You know what? Screw you. Screw the damn Grand Council! If those that are mine are hurt or killed because of this, there will be –”

His phone was snatched out of his hand and Peter ended the call.

“I don’t think threatening the Grand Council will win us any favors,” Peter said.

Stiles glared at Peter but didn’t argue when the man ushered him to the couch where they sat down pressed against each other.

“Who is Uncle Duke? I was unaware you had other family,” Peter asked.

“Remember when mom and I used to leave two or three times a year? We would spend time with packs and others she knew. Uncle Duke, Deucalion, was one of them. Mom knew him, Kali, and Ennis. She knew so many people and creatures, and she helped me get to know them too. It was like having another family that only mom and I were allowed to have. After everything happened, dad changed our numbers and we moved house, which meant Deucalion and the others weren’t able to get in touch with me,” Stiles explained.

“I’ve met those Alphas before through Talia,” Peter said.

“I don’t know how he found my number …” Stiles murmured with a frown.

He hadn’t realized how much his father had cut him off from everything and everyone he knew in fear of being targeted. Why hadn’t his father allowed him to have any sort of support system outside of Scott?

Wiping his face tiredly, he slumped against Peter.

“Can we just watch something, please? I don’t want to think anymore.”

Peter ran his fingers through Stiles’s hair and pressed a kissed on the top of the boy’s head.

“I have something better for you,” Peter said.

Stiles frowned and watched Peter leave the couch and head to the bag of books he’d left on the kitchen bench. A brown paper parcel was taken out of the bag and brought over. He hadn’t realized something else had been added to the pile of books they’d gotten.

“It’s a few weeks late but to be fair, I was newly resurrected and needed to sort out my affairs,” Peter said.

“Late for what?” Stiles asked, tilting his head.

“Happy 18th birthday, dear,” Peter said, handing over the parcel.

Stiles was stunned for a few seconds before he was overwhelmed with happiness. Smiling widely enough to hurt his cheeks, he wrapped his arms around Peter and hugged him tightly. He hadn’t expected anyone to have remembered his recent birthday.

“Thank you,” Stiles murmured.

He pulled back and ripped open the brown paper to reveal an old hardcover book with the triskelion printed on the cover. Flipping through it, he came to realize it was the Hale bestiary. Widening his eyes, Stiles glanced up at Peter.

“This … this is … Peter, I can’t accept something like this,” Stiles said.

“It’s one of two copies left but I want you to have it. You have always been an honorary Hale,” Peter replied.

The book underneath the bestiary was a newer hardcover but this one was blank.

“For you to create your own bestiary or keep track of your magic’s progress, or whichever you choose to fill the pages with,” Peter explained.

Carefully placing the books on the coffee table in front of him, Stiles hugged the older wolf tighter. He was beyond grateful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ~
> 
> Feedback is awesome and very much welcomed <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incredibly thankful for all the support given and I'm glad you're all enjoying this fic so far.
> 
> Editing has been done by me and feedback is love

Stiles stared at his front door, unsure on what to do. He knew who was behind that piece of wood, knocking, and it wasn’t the wolf he had been expecting. The alpha energy was unmistakable. The guilt was familiar. However, after being dismissed and rejected, he didn’t know if he wanted to open that door.

Biting his bottom lip, he took out his phone and pulled up his messages with Peter.

 **To Zombie Wolf:**  
What are you doing?

 **To Stiles:**  
Did you need me to come over now?

He stared at the door with uncertainty. Should he tell Peter Derek had shown up? He didn’t know why the Alpha had decided to visit now. It had been almost three weeks since the rejection and despite Peter’s help and the fledgling bond they had, there were still moments he found himself staring into space, struggling.

Scratching his neck, he replied to Peter.

 **To Zombie Wolf:**  
Take your time

Taking a deep breath, he stood up straight and pushed back everything he felt. If he was going to do this, then he refused to look weak.

Opening the door, he was greeted with a Derek hunching his shoulders and hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. How the guy could wear the added layer in the summer heat, Stiles would not understand.

“Can I help you, Alpha Hale?” Stiles greeted with forced politeness.

“Can we talk?” Derek asked.

“Talk,” Stiles said, gesturing for Derek to go ahead.

Derek shifted uncomfortably on the front step. “Inside?”

Stiles studied the wolf standing in front of him. The Alpha was exhausted and he could feel how lost and uncertain he was. With a sigh, he stepped aside and gestured for Derek to come in. After closing the door, he went into the kitchen.

“Drink?”

“No, thank you,” Derek answered.

Leaning against the bench, Stiles folded his arms across his chest and stared expectantly.

“I want to … apologize,” Derek said.

Stiles blinked and stood up straighter. “I’m sorry, what?”

“When I said you weren’t pack, it was because I thought you were in on Scott’s plan. And when you said Beacon Hills belonged to you, I was … angry,” Derek admitted.

Anger began to boil over and Stiles couldn’t hold back a growl. “Did you even think to ask? Did you even stop to think at all? How can I be a part of a plan when I’m being excluded by everyone around me? How can I be a part of a plan when a geriatric hunter kidnapped me?”

“You were kidnapped?” Derek asked, barely hiding his shock.

“You saw the cast and bruises. How did you think that happened because it sure as shit didn’t happen from crashing my Jeep into the warehouse,” Stiles retorted.

Derek looked down and away. Shame was building up and it made Stiles feel guilty for his harsh words. “Stiles, I …”

Exhaling slowly, he tried to keep his anger in check and said, “Save it. Why are you here? Why now?”

“You were pack before. I hadn’t realized there was a pack bond until I said you weren’t,” Derek admitted.

“Sure. That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It feels wrong now, without that bond to you. I’ve been thinking and reflecting. I want to be better – a better Alpha and a better friend,” Derek said.

“And? You made it abundantly clear where we stand with each other. You don’t trust me and you assumed I don’t trust you, remember?” Stiles argued.

Derek flinched. “I want you in my pack.”

Stiles tilted his head. “Why?”

The wolf frowned and the bafflement he felt made Stiles roll his eyes.

“I need a pack to stop from being burned up by my magic and to have a chance of remaining in control. It’s either that or find someone else within the county willing to let me attach myself to them. That’s not taking into account of having people to call mine. Why do you want me back?” Stiles clarified.

Derek almost looked constipated for having to explain his reasons, however, Stiles wasn’t having it. He’d been thrown away so easily and everything that had happened between them had been treated like it meant nothing. If he were to rejoin the Hale pack, he’d make Derek prove he wanted him.

“You’re always there. Even when one of the wolves tell you to leave, you stay and help us. You’re loyal, smart, and protective. You’ve done more for this pack then anyone could have asked for and have never asked for anything in return. Stiles, anyone would be lucky to have you by their side,” Derek said.

As he spoke, Stiles’s eyes widened. He couldn’t believe it. The words were something he’d expect from Peter. He could sense nothing but genuine feelings. There was no hint of deception, no lies to his words. Derek actually believed what he was saying.

“You … You’re serious?” Stiles stammered.

“You were born into the Hale pack and I had no right pushing you out,” Derek said.

“And Peter?” Stiles checked.

“What about him?”

“Is he pack too?” Stiles asked.

“He’s my uncle but … he also killed Laura and I can’t forgive him for that,” Derek answered.

“I didn’t ask if you could forgive him or not,” Stiles said.

“What makes you think I can trust him enough to be pack?” Derek asked.

Stiles sighed and tapped the bench, thinking. He didn’t want to do this but Derek needed to know and Peter would most likely not say anything.

“Did you know she abandoned him when he needed his Alpha the most?” Stiles asked.

“What?”

“Did you question why Peter was left behind when you two ran away to New York?” Stiles pushed. “Did you question why she never had him transferred to a facility close to where you two settled down?”

“What?”

“She broke the pack bond to him the first chance she got. She left him to slowly heal and in turn, slowly go insane. When she came back to Beacon Hills, she came back as an intruder to his territory. Eight years is a long time, Derek. People change. Scents change. His wolf took charge and he was released and all he did was defend what was his. And don’t even get me started on what that crazy nurse did to him. Laura was Alpha, she was trained by your mom, so by all rights, she should have been the one to survive, not him,” Stiles told him.

Derek clenched his fists.

“I know what it’s like to be abandoned by family, Derek. I know what it’s like to have to watch family die. I don’t expect you to forgive him for Laura nor do I expect him to forgive you for leaving. But you two are family and you have this, I guess, third chance to be pack again. I have this chance and I won’t leave him,” Stiles said.

“He’s that important to you?” Derek asked.

“Always has been,” Stiles said.

“I’ve heard him on the phone. He calls you ‘pet’,” Derek stated. “Do you understand what that means?”

Stiles’s expression fell flat as a wave of disgust saturated the kitchen.

“Yes and what goes on between him and I is our business. It’s consensual and legal and neither of us will ever hurt the other,” Stiles growled.

“He’s not good, Stiles,” Derek tried.

“Neither am I, Derek. Peter is the only one who has ever accepted me for who I am. He doesn’t care how much I screw up or how many questions I have or how much I talk. He sees what I can be and he wants to help me achieve those things,” Stiles argued.

“And when he wants payment?”

Sparks of magic snapped through freezing air. The kitchen iced over and their breaths came out in white puffs. Derek shifted uncomfortably and glanced around.

“Like I’m some sort of whore? Is that what you think I am? Or is it that you’d think I’d do anything for a little bit of attention?” Stiles asked coldly.

“No, that’s not –”

“God, I can’t believe how stupid I was. For a second, I really thought you cared but that’s too hard for you right? All that matters is the power of being Alpha and getting everyone beneath you to submit. I get it, you know? You lost Laura and it hasn’t been that long since she was killed. She was your entire pack for the last eight years. She was your big sister and Alpha but guess what Derek? You’re not the only one who lost her. Do you really think that killing her hasn’t affected Peter? Do you really believe he’s that callous? He’s a manipulative asshole but even he has a heart.”

“He …”

“Of course you think he’s callous. And let me guess, you think he should still be punished? He has been! I set him on fire and you clawed out his throat. He died!” Stiles was shouting by the end.

A hand covered his eyes as an arm wrapped around his stomach. He immediately tensed but his magic swirled happily around him and the one pressed against his back. The emotions of the outside world became muted. Even Derek’s intense guilt and shame barely registered.

“Breathe, pet,” Peter instructed.

Stiles took in a ragged breath and slumped back.

“I think it’s time for you to leave, nephew,” Peter said.

Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed Peter’s hand away from his eyes. He didn’t let go of that hand and held it against his collarbone. The entire conversation with Derek had left him exhausted and wanting to be alone.

“Please, Derek,” Stiles tiredly said. “Just go.”

“I …”

Derek flicked his gaze between the two of them. His eyes held so much pain and Stiles could see he wanted to say something. However, words were never Derek’s forte.

Not wanting to see that look anymore, Stiles turned around in Peter’s hold and pressed his forehead against his shoulder. He listened to Derek shift on the spot before leaving the house. When he heard the front door open and close, he gripped Peter’s shirt and let out a shaky breath.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Peter asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles murmured.

Arms wrapped around him and fingers squeezed the back of his neck supportively.

“How do you feel about taking out a nest of pixies?” Peter asked.

Stiles groaned dramatically and leaned back against the bench. “Seriously, Peter? Pixies? They’re pests. Annoying. Pests.”

“Exactly. Think of it as a way to deal with that pent up anger I know you’re sitting on,” Peter said.

Stiles frowned as he thought about it. On one hand releasing his anger on something sounded really good right about now. On the other hand, pixies.

Running a hand down his face, he groaned. “Fine. Let me go get change and get my stuff, and we’ll go deal with the pixies.”

To his surprise, he was followed upstairs to his room. Stiles pulled out an old shirt and a part of shorts from his drawers. He raised his eyebrows at Peter, who chose to lean against the door frame and keep his eyes on the teen.

Rolling his eyes, he turned to face Peter and stripped down to his boxers. He stood there with a hand on his hips as blue eyes roved over his body. There was hunger in those eyes. It wasn’t something Stiles was used to seeing directed at him and caused him to blush.

“Darling, you are perfect,” Peter said.

“Peter,” Stiles whispered.

The wolf stepped in front of him. The two couldn’t tear their gazes away from each other. Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew he belonged to the wolf but what was passing between them was different. It was charged and heated.

The shirt was slipped over his head. Peter guided his arms through and pulled the shirt down his torso slowly. Knuckles grazed down his skin along his sides. He shivered from the touch. Fingers skated along his skin across his stomach.

His breath hitched in shock when Peter dropped to his knees. Stiles licked his lips and flexed his fingers at his sides. He didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t know what to say.

Hands roamed down his legs, taking in their shape, the way they felt, before one of his legs was guided upwards and into his shorts. The other leg followed suit and Peter raised the piece of clothing over his knees, his thighs, until they reached his waist. At that point, Peter glanced up. He didn’t know what the wolf saw, what he was thinking, but hands moved away from his waist to push his shirt up a little and a kiss was placed on his abdomen.

He felt like he was being worshiped and all he could do was whimper.

Biting his bottom lip, he ran a hand through Peter’s hair. Peter leant his forehead against Stiles’s stomach and breathed.

They stayed like that in a peaceful quiet moment for a bit longer. Before pulling away, Peter nipped his hip.

“Let’s go deal with some pixies,” Peter hoarsely said as he stood up.

Unable to trust his voice, Stiles simply nodded and went about putting on his socks and shoes, and gathered his wallet, phone, and keys. He left a note on the fridge in case his dad came home, letting him know he went for a walk.

*

By the time they had finished dealing with the next of pixies in the preserve, Stiles was loose-limbed and feeling content. Peter had escorted him back to the Stilinski property and left, saying he’ll be back later with dinner if the Sheriff didn’t come home. Stiles thanked him and before he could say something else, yawned.

Peter rolled his eyes and pushed him towards the house with instructions to clean up and get some rest.

When he went into the house, he was met with silence. His dad hadn’t come home in the two hours he’d spent traipsing through the preserve. Sighing, he quickly made his way to the bathroom upstairs and worked on cleaning up the dirt and pixie goop covering him. He was glad he’d worn old clothes as they’d have to be thrown out. The little buggers had torn his shirt and goop stained both shirt and shorts.

The shower only relaxed him further and so when he left the bathroom, he was in a good mood and wasn’t really paying attention. After weeks of nothing, Scott was climbing through Stiles’s window. He was confused by the appearance of his friend.

“Dude!” Stiles called out.

“Uh …”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles gathered clean clothes and said, “Let me get dressed.”

He ducked back into the bathroom and quickly got dressed. On the way back out, he grabbed his stained and torn clothing and tossed them into the plastic bag lining his desk bin.

“What’s that smell?” Scott asked.

“Uh … Pixie goop,” Stiles answered.

“Pixie goop?”

“Yeah. What’s up, dude? Haven’t seen you since the whole warehouse thing,” Stiles said.

“I’ve had summer school. Have you seen Allison? She’s not replying to any of my messages,” Scott told him.

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Why would I have heard from her? Didn’t she say she wanted space? Especially since she jumped on the crazy train?”

“She’s not crazy!” Scott argued. “I love her.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles tied up the bag and tossed it in the corner out of sight and made a mental note to toss it into the outside bin later.

“How did you get pixie goop on you? Aren’t those things, like, fairies?” Scott asked.

“They’re nothing like the fae. That’s just insulting. Pixies are annoying pests that bite and scratch and are a nuisance for everyone. The only good pixie is a dead pixie,” Stiles answered.

“Dead … you can’t kill, Stiles!” Scott argued, horrified.

“Excuse me?”

“Killing is wrong and that’s not what our pack is about. We could have reasoned with them,” Scott said.

Raising his eyebrows in disbelief, Stiles said, “What pack? Do you mean the Hale pack? Did you not hear me when I said they were pests? Pixies are like cockroaches of the supernatural world. Also, little bit of double standards there, dude. What the hell was that about with Gerard?”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked.

“You poisoned him with mountain ash and forced Derek to bite the fucker,” Stiles pointed out.

Scott shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it? He threatened my mom.”

Stiles stared at his friend, unable to believe what he was hearing. How could Scott be so blasé about what he forced Derek to do?

“Do you have any idea how wrong that was?” Stiles asked.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about, dude. It’s not your problem and I had to protect my mom,” Scott said.

“So, it’s okay that Peter bit you then?”

Scott frowned and stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “That’s different. All I want is to be human again so I can be with Allison!”

“You’re joking, right?” Stiles checked. “Look, Scott. Maybe you should go before either of us say something we both regret.”

“You can’t keep killing things, Stiles. It’s wrong and you’re human so you need to stay away from the supernatural,” Scott ordered him.

“You’re not my Alpha, dude,” Stiles said.

“Stay out of it, Stiles, or I’ll let Mr. Argent and your dad know what you’re doing.”

With a flare of beta gold eyes, Scott left through the window. With a tired sigh, Stiles made sure his window was closed and dropped on top of his bed.

Everything always came back to Allison and in Scott’s world, he was always right. If something inconvenienced him, then it had to go. If other people were involved, the only thing anyone was allowed to do was talk and come to a truce. No one else could even think about killing in defense but I, Scott McCall, can come up with a plan with a shifty ass vet to kill an old dude so I can be with my dear, sweet Allison.

Bah!

Stiles covered his face with his hands and took a deep breath. This whole thing was his fault. If he had never dragged Scott into the preserve that night, the guy would continue being completely oblivious to this side of the world.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone for long. Derek climbed through the window but didn’t move any further. Stiles didn’t want to move from his bed. Whatever the Alpha had to say, it can’t be any worse than what’s already been said.

Warring emotions wafted from the wolf standing hunched by the window. It was enough to create a dull ache in the back of Stiles’s head.

“I …” Derek started.

Derek tensed and stepped away from the window as Peter joined him.

“Nephew,” Peter greeted.

Stiles finally sat up and looked at both Hales. The blue eyed wolf took a seat beside him on the bed and ran a hand down the back of Stiles’s head. The teen hummed in delight and closed his eyes as he leaned into the touch, tensed muscles unclenching.

“What happened, dear?” Peter quietly asked.

“Scott visited,” Stiles answered.

“Ah.”

“Dude thought we should have talked to the pixies instead of killing them,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes.

A snort reminded them they had company and both turned their attention to Derek. With their focus on him, a blush grew.

“I want you in my pack. Both of you,” Derek finally said.

Stiles froze and stared at him with wide eyes.

“You … what?” Stiles whispered.

Derek glanced over to his uncle quickly before stepping close to the teen. He knelt down and slid a hand over Stiles’s neck.

“Let me be your Alpha,” Derek said.

He studied those eyes, studied the face watching him. He could feel the hesitancy and the fear coming from the Alpha despite Peter being beside him, muting the worst of it.

Licking his lips, Stiles nodded with jerky movements.

Red bled through Derek’s eyes. “Submit.”

Stiles lowered his eyes and tilted his head. There was a pleased rumble and the hand on his neck tightened. He shivered as he felt the pack bond to his Alpha form. With that, other bonds grew, though weaker. It was off balancing but it made him feel whole. It was a feeling he had been born with and something he sorely missed.

His eyes went milky white as his power came to the surface and took control.

“My Alpha, I am your Spark. Will you accept the magic that I am? Will you become the tether needed?” Stiles asked.

“I accept.”

Stiles leant forward and rubbed his cheek against Derek’s. Magic swirled around the two of them, making them both shiver.

When he pulled back, he shifted his focus to the wolf sitting beside him.

“Peter Hale, you have been the keeper of secrets, protector within the shadows. Will you accept the magic that I am? Will you become the anchor needed?”

“I accept, dear boy.”

Satisfied and warm magic swept through the house. It circled around the two wolves before nestling in its home beside his heart and pack bonds. The two Hales wrapped him in a welcoming embrace and he marveled at the closeness. He had never felt so at home in his life before and it was overwhelming.

Shaking, he clung to a t-shirt tighter. Without a word, the two wolves piled on the bed with Stiles in between them. He laid his head on Peter’s chest, content to listening to the steady beat of his heart. Derek was a warm line along his back, a hand gripping his hip. With his magic overwhelmingly content and being curled up with his two wolves, Stiles found himself zoning in and out.

When he finally settled enough in his own skin, he had no idea how much time had passed.

“I lost control in the Argent’s basement when Gerard had me, Erica, and Boyd,” Stiles murmured.

He had no idea why he had said that and he could feel his wolves tensing beside him.

“Gerard knows you have magic?” Derek checked.

Stiles hummed, still trying to settle back to the present. However, the worry coming from the wolves had him sitting up and focusing on the exact wording used.

“Shouldn’t it be ‘knew’? I mean from what I saw at the warehouse, the bite was being rejected, right?”

The silence that answered had been painfully tensing and sitting up.

“He’s dead, right? Please tell me he’s dead,” Stiles pleaded.

“We’re not sure. He disappeared while we were distracted by Jackson,” Peter answered. “I haven’t been able to track him down.”

“No …” he whispered.

Panic made his breathing stutter. Peter grabbed his shoulders painfully and forced him to look at the wolf.

“Sweetheart, listen to me. He will _never_ hurt you again, okay? I won’t allow it,” Peter said.

The determination blazing in those blue eyes staring at him made it easy for Stiles to believe and he nodded.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay.”

He glanced over to Derek and took in the way the Alpha was tensed. They’ve all been affected by the hunter in more ways than one. They’ve all lost something to the Argents. However, Derek had been used not by one Argent, but by two.

“Can I touch you?” Stiles asked.

Derek frowned in confusion and nodded.

Stiles ran his hands over Derek’s shoulders and pulled him in for a hug. The wolf was hesitant at the touch but eventually wrapped his arms around him and pressed his forehead against the teen’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Derek murmured.

“No, it’s not,” Stiles objected. “I swear when I see Scott next, I will kick his ass for what he did.”

He pulled back and met Derek’s eyes. They had a fascinating color – a mixture of greens, browns, and blue. They were dazzling. Mentally shaking himself, he pressed their foreheads together, their new bond singing with the contact.

“I will destroy anyone who even thinks about hurting either of you or the pack again,” Stiles growled.

“While that’s impressive, dear boy, what are you going to do about Scott?” Peter asked.

Stiles pulled away from Derek enough to look at the other wolf with a questioning tilt of his head.

“Will you be telling him about your magic?” Peter clarified.

“No,” Stiles said. “This is pack business.”

“And Scott isn’t pack?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Uh, no, dude. I don’t know if you’ve realized but that guy was not meant for our world and unless he apologizes to Derek for such a dick move, I don’t see why he’d be pack.”

Peter ran a hand down Stiles’s back before grabbing his hips to pull him on to his lap. Stiles let out a little squeak and once settled against the older wolf, squeezed one of his wrists.

“Um. Speaking of pack business – I have news from the Grand Council,” Stiles cautiously said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What news?” Derek asked.

“They’re sending someone to investigate everything that’s happened here and to make sure humans remain oblivious. Except, you know, the supernatural is the worst kept secret here,” Stiles said.

“Do you know who and what they’ll do?”

“Nephew, failing a Grand Council’s investigation means death for the pack and Stiles will have to stand aside and watch,” Peter explained.

Stiles bit his bottom lip and hunched his shoulders when fury slammed into him.

“How long have you known?” Derek asked.

“That’s not important,” Peter dismissed.

Derek growled and red bled through his eyes. Stiles was experiencing the wolf’s rage from not only his empathy but through the bond as well. A headache was brewing and he was close to being sick from the sheer strength of the emotions.

“How am I supposed to protect my pack when information is being withheld from me?” Derek growled.

“I won’t let them hurt the pack,” Stiles tried.

“Good for you. How do we know that person isn’t here already or conducted their investigation in the time it’s taken for you to tell us?” Derek demanded.

The accusation was enough for Stiles to push aside what he was feeling from the Alpha with his own anger. His posture straightened and with a glare, he slipped off Peter’s lap to stand.

“Fuck you, asshole. You’re the one who decided I wasn’t pack. How the fuck was I supposed to approach you about anything when you wanted nothing to do with me!” Stiles snapped.

With his magic, he shoved Derek off his bed and kept shoving him towards the opened window.

“I told you I would do anything to protect this pack, just like I already have. I will go up against the Grand Council and my asshole family if I have to but, Derek, if you have any doubts, then why the fuck did you accept me? You may be Alpha but I’m a royal Spark and I don’t have to put up with this shit,” Stiles snarled.

Red eyes blazed at him and a warning growl rumbled but that didn’t deter Stiles from throwing Derek out.

“Get the hell out of my house, Derek. If you think I did this to hurt _your_ pack, then you seriously need to reconsider me being a part of it,” Stiles said, giving Derek a final shove.

He slammed the window shut and locked it for good measure. There was a heavy hit against the brick wall, causing the house to shake. Stiles stayed standing there until he couldn’t feel the alpha spark near the house anymore and like strings being cut, he slumped against the door, shaking.

Peter wrapped his arms around Stiles’s waist and nosed at his neck. There were no words but Peter seemed to know what he needed. The wolf stepped back, keeping his hands on him, and turned him around. His t-shirt was removed followed by his pants. Once Peter had stripped down as well, the two laid down back on the bed and wrapped themselves around each other.

Hands ran up and down his spine and a leg pushed in between his. Stiles leant his head against Peter’s chest and closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“For what, sweetheart?” Peter asked.

“Derek will probably kick me out again,” Stiles answered.

“Oh, darling boy, no he won’t,” Peter reassured.

Stiles curled up in on himself and shook his head.

“He doesn’t know,” Stiles murmured. “He wasn’t taught anything and he’s going to kick me out of the pack.”

Peter tilted his head up with a finger underneath his chin and pressed a kiss to Stiles’s forehead.

“You’re right. He wasn’t taught but that doesn’t mean we can’t teach him now. It’ll be frustrating but I imagine you’d be able to get the information through that thick head of his,” Peter said.

Stiles sighed and relaxed a little. “Yeah, okay.”

“Otherwise, there’s plenty of Alphas we can kill so I can become yours,” Peter added.

Stiles snorted and pressed himself against the wolf. He was glad he was no longer alone but he knew he couldn’t go through that pain of a broken bond again. In an effort of self-preservation, he closed off his side of the bond.

“Thanks, Peter.”

*

Once he was finally alone, Stiles took his Jeep and made his way to the Argent house. After he parked, he sat in the car and gripped the steering wheel tightly to stop his hands from shaking. He didn’t want to be there but he had to get started on sorting out his territory and that meant laying down the rules. He had to make sure the remaining Argents knew there would be consequences if they continued to step out of bounds.

Letting out a shaky breath, he steeled himself and left the comfort of his Jeep. He knocked on the front door and waited with hands in pockets.

Chris Argent was the one who opened the door.

“Mr. Stilinski, how can I help you?” Chris greeted.

“We need to talk,” Stiles said.

“About what?”

“The terms and conditions of any Argent or affiliated persons coming and going from Beacon County.”

Chris raised his eyebrows. “Terms and conditions?”

“We can discuss it more if I can come inside,” Stiles said.

With slight amusement in his features, Chris stepped aside and allowed him inside.

“Is Allison here?” Stiles asked.

“Why?”

“You are a matriarchal family, are you not? And as I understand it, she is the last female in the immediate family that are based in the US,” Stiles answered.

The hunter stared at him with an inscrutable expression before approaching the end of the staircase and calling for his daughter to come down.

The brunette made her way down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind an ear, and gave her father and Stiles a confused look.

“What’s going on?” Allison asked.

“We need to talk,” Stiles stated.

“About what?”

“Your family and Beacon County. Let’s take a seat,” Stiles said.

Stiles watched her confusion grow but she led him to the dining table. Chris sat next to his daughter, body ready for anything. For a second, he hesitated. He made sure his magic was easily accessible and took a moment to check in on Peter through their bond. There was nothing but calm coming down the bond and it helped centered his mind. Not wanting to deal with the emotions of a trained hunter and his dangerous teenage daughter, he wrapped some of his magic around himself as a shield. It was a temporary measure and he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep it up but it was better than nothing.

With everything in order, he took a deep breath and sat down in front of them.

“What’s going on, Stiles?” Allison asked.

“Chris, have you taught Allison anything about the Councils yet?” Stiles asked.

“The Grand Council, Royal Council, and Healers, right?” Allison listed.

“Yes,” Stiles confirmed. “Each member of the Grand and Royal Council are from the main branch of old family lines. These families are considered royal in our world. The oldest members in the Royal Council inherit the position in the Grand Council once those currently in the Grand Council have finished their term or die.”

“The Stilinski’s have been protectors of Beacon County for generations. We’ve always worked with the Hale’s to safeguard the county and act as law and order for matters outside of human law. Including hunters. The Stilinski’s and Gajo’s, my mother’s family, are considered royal.”

Chris’s eyes widened at the news while Allison just looked confused.

“You’re royalty?” Allison checked skeptically.

“I am. Now here’s the thing. While my father and I were in hiding for reasons I won’t bore you with, this county still had our protection and the moment things started heating up again, it became my business. As of last month, I retook my position in the Royal Council and my status as guardian of Beacon County.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Allison asked.

“Your family has been a thorn in our sides for years. I’m here to give you the terms and conditions you and yours will have to abide by in order to even step foot in the county. Any rule breaking will be faced with consequences,” Stiles answered.

“You can’t be serious!” Allison objected in disbelief.

“Allison,” Chris warned.

“No, dad. This is just Scott’s goofy friend. He’s got nothing to do with his. How do we know he’s not lying about any of that?” Allison argued.

“It’s a criminal offense to impersonate someone from one of these families, especially if they’re a part of the Councils,” Chris said. “Only those who have been in this world long enough will know these sorts of things.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows and allowed his magic out. A breeze blew through the room and little lights sprinkled through the air. To reiterate his royal blood, his magic conjured up a white crown of intertwined ivy. He could see Chris immediately recognize the truth behind his claims and went rigid.

“I assure you, Allison, this is not a joke. Scott has no clue about this and once I’ve laid out the rules, I will be binding you to an oath to ensure this stays between us,” Stiles said.

The magic dispersed with a wave of his hand.

“Werewolves are monsters and they deserve to be put down. I will continue to hunt them down in order to protect humans,” Allison growled.

Stiles leant forward, a twisted smile stretching his lips as sparks snapped across his shoulders.

“Careful, Allison. One could mistake you for your dearly dead psychotic Aunt Kate. From where I stand, humans are the monsters. You and yours have no choice in the matter. This is my territory and if you want to continue living here, you will follow my rules. If you continue to act like a psychopath, I’ll be the one to kill you. This is your first and final warning,” Stiles threatened.

Allison could only glare at him.

“Here are the terms and conditions – One: the pack currently living here are under my protection and they in turn help me protect the territory. If I find out that a single hair on their heads have been hurt because of you and yours, you’ll be hurt in the exact same manner. If any of them turn up dead because of you and yours, those responsible will have forfeited their lives. If any of them are continuously hurt after initial punishment, those responsible will have forfeited their lives.”

“Two: hunting wolves or any creature in this territory will only be permitted if the pack or I reach out to ask for your assistance. If I find out you have been doing so behind our back, I will break your hands and burn your weapons. If the hunt was of an innocent or of someone under our protection, you have forfeited your lives.”

“Three: any associates coming in and out of the territory must be declared prior to their entry and it’ll be my judgement on whether or not they’ll continue on into Beacon County. If they are denied entry and continue to move in, legs will be broken. If they are known to the pack or myself as ones who cannot and will not abide the code or my rules, they will have forfeited their lives.”

“You can’t be serious!” Allison cried out. “You’re essentially stripping us of our right to hunt and protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

“If that’s what you’re doing, then there wouldn’t be a problem. Tell me, who does it benefit when a woman in her mid-twenties seduces underage boys to gain knowledge in order to trap and burn down an entire pack of law abiding citizens? How many innocents have died because of your crazy relatives or hunters who only care if someone is completely human or not? As for you, Allison, I’m well aware you have hunted down two innocent betas and turned them into pin cushions on the orders of Gerard Argent. I also know you helped in their torture and knew I was down there. I know everything you’ve done and if I had been reinstated as guardian during any of that, I’d have every right to do to you what you’ve done to others as punishment,” Stiles said.

“Are those all the terms and conditions?” Chris asked.

“Dad!”

“For now, yes, however, I retain the right to adjust, add, or subtract based on your future actions. In terms of Gerard, me and mine are aware he’s possibly still alive, and in respect of our new understanding, I’m informing you that once we find him, Peter will be tearing the bastard to pieces,” Stiles told them.

Chris nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I … We understand.”

“I would like you to visit the family in France, let them know Beacon County is protected by a Royal. It would also be a good opportunity to teach Allison her place in this world and the meaning of the code,” Stiles said. “Of course, that’s up to you. I’m not going to force the trip on you.”

“We already have plans to leave for the remainder of the summer holidays. Our flight is tomorrow,” Chris said.

Stiles nodded. “Do let me know when you’re back. If you have any problems or need to talk, don’t hesitate to contact me or my dad. While I’m unsure how much he knows about the mess that’s happened, he did grow up in this life. Now, the bindings.”

He stood and walked around the table to stand with the two Argents as they rose from their chairs. He held out a hand to Chris and once taken, magic wrapped around them.

“Do you swear to keep the knowledge of who and what I am, including my magic, protected? Do you sweat that no one outside of this room will be informed of who and what I am, including my magic?”

“I swear.”

Magic tightened its hold on their arms and burned the oath into flesh. The strange symbols faded when they let go but Stiles knew they would be able to continue to feel it until either the oath was broken or released.

Turning to Allison, he held out his hand for her. She hesitated and glanced over to her father. When she didn’t get any reaction from him, she grumbled and finally took his hand. He recited the same words spoken to Chris and once he had her agreement and the oath took, Stiles pocketed his hands and stepped back.

“Have fun in France,” Stiles chimed, turning around and leaving.

Once back in the safety of his Jeep, he took a moment to focus on breathing. He was trembling. He had never wanted to be in or even near the Argent house again after the night with Gerard. It was hard to believe he had managed to hold a meeting there without showing how much he was affected.

Letting out a breath, he decided to head to the one place he knew he could relax for an hour or two without being disturbed. He parked the Jeep in a parking lot not too far from his destination and made his way on foot to Boil and Brew – his favorite café. It had been a regular stop for him since it had opened four years ago. When time allowed it, he could sit in a quiet corner and either did his homework or read. The staff and owner never minded how long he stayed and he had a constant order of hot chocolate or coffee for the length of time he was there.

A hand grabbed his arm tightly and yanked him into an alley between the café and a burger joint. He was slammed into the brick wall and growling rumbled in front of him, letting him know whoever decided to accost him was a werewolf.

Opening his eyes, he frowned in confusion when he was faced with Scott.

“Scott? What are you doing, dude?”

“What did you do?” Scott growled.

“Uh, you’ll have to be more specific. I’ve done a lot of things since the last time we saw each other a couple of days ago,” Stiles said.

Scott growled and flashed his beta gold eyes.

“You know exactly what you did! I heard you at Allison’s house. You threatened her and now she’s going overseas and telling me not to contact her!” Scott shouted.

Stiles’s magic surged out of him and threw the teen wolf off of him and into the opposite wall.

“If you heard all that, then you know I have every right and reason to warn that family,” Stiles argued. “They’re not exactly citizen of the year. I’m just making sure that neither of them go on another massacre.”

Scott lunged at him but Stiles was quicker. He moved out of the way and further into the alley way. The wolf chased him down, swinging claws around until Stiles tripped and Scott was able to pin him to the brick wall. He whacked his head against a brick and groaned in pain.

Something must have finally caught Scott’s attention, as instead of attacking, he leant forward with a frown and sniffed Stiles’s neck. Hackles raised, he tried to push the beta wolf away. His magic tried to help but claws dug into flesh and an angry growl made the panic worse.

“Why do you stink of the Hales?” Scott demanded.

“Let go of me, Scott,” Stiles pleaded.

A hand pressed harder against his sternum, causing him to cry out in pain.

“You’re hurting me. Let go!”

“Did Derek do this? Did Peter? Are they manipulating you? Tell me!” Scott shouted.

“No,” Stiles struggled.

“Why would they be close to you? They’re using you to get to me and have the Argents leave,” Scott said.

“I’m their pack,” Stiles tried, gasping when the pressure increased.

“Pack? Try again, Stiles. Humans can’t be pack and why would they even want you? You’re nothing without me. Tell me what they’re doing. Why did they send you to threaten the Argents and send Allison away from me?”

Claws sliced through skin as Scott was thrown away from him. Stiles slid down the brick wall as a dark haired man wearing an apron with the Boil and Brew logo printed on the top left corner stepped forward.

“Don’t make me call the Sheriff station, kid.”

Scott glared at the two of them before shouldering his way out of the alley without a backwards glance.

“Are you okay, Stiles?”

Slowly, he stood and nodded, hands shaking a little.

“Yeah, Adam. Thanks for the help,” Stiles said.

“Come on. I’ve got a first aid kit in the back,” Adam said.

Stiles followed the olive skinned man through the staff entrance and into the office. He took a seat on the lounge and watched as Adam fished out the first aid kit from one of the lower cupboards.

“Shirts off,” Adam instructed.

Stiles did as told and watched as a small circular tin was taken out. Unlike most first aid kits, Adam’s was full of herbs and different potions on top of the regular bits and bobs. As a witch, he was best at healing, and self-defense magic. He brought his knowledge of different herbs and plants into his business to make unique tea blends and those in the know were always welcomed to get a bit of magical help at the café.

Adam knelt down in front of him and spread a clear gel across the punctured and bruised skin. It was cool to the touch with a strange minty smell.

“That should heal you up in the next few minutes so feel free to wait here until it does. I’ve got a spare shirt if you’d like to borrow it,” Adam informed him.

The teen gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

A maroon shirt with the Boil and Brew logo on the breast pocket was passed over and he was left alone in the office. Stiles thumped his head on the couch and sighed. This was such a mess. He hated that Scott never listened to him. He hated that Scott always jumped to conclusions based on what was best for himself and his world views.

Once the healing gel had done its job, Stiles pulled the employers shirt on and his plaid over the top, and left the office. He joined the queue at the counter, ordered his usual coffee, and ventured to a quiet corner of the café. The caffeine would help calm him down and after this morning, it was needed.

With a sigh, he took his phone out of his pocket and watched as it blew up with messages from Scott. Every new message he caught a glimpse of looked nastier and nastier.

“Here’s your coffee, kid. Cake is on the house,” Adam said.

“Thanks, Adam,” Stiles smiled.

Adam ruffled his hair on the way back to the counter with a playful smirk.

Stiles took a sip of his coffee and turned his attention back to his phone. The messages had finally stopped coming through and as much as he didn’t want to read them knowing how hurtful they’ll be, he couldn’t stop himself from reading them.

Just as he expected, they hurt and more.

He wanted to respond, to correct Scott and tell him what was happening, but for the first time, he didn’t know how to speak to his friend.

An exhausted sigh escaped him when his father rang half an hour later.

“Hey, dad,” Stiles greeted.

 _“Stiles, want to tell me why I just had Chris Argent in my office telling me you had a meeting with him and Allison outlining terms and conditions with harsh punishments? Also why did he let me know that if he caught Scott on their roof again, he would be charging him with trespassing and stalking?”_ the Sheriff asked.

Stiles groaned and wiped his face. “I’m doing my job as guardian and as a part of the Royal Council. The Argents have been a problem and I won’t let them continue doing whatever the hell they want. As for Scott, I have no idea. The dude is obsessed with Allison and I assume he got caught by Chris sometime after I left,” Stiles answered.

_“Threats though, Stiles? You can’t go around –”_

“I can and I will. Rules in this world are different to your precious humans and I have not broken any of our rules,” Stiles interrupted. “Beacon County is mine and I will do whatever I need to do to keep order here.”

Stiles could hear murmuring on the other end and he couldn’t help but grimace. Duty called.

_“Look, I’ve got to go but I’ll be home later tonight. We need to talk, kid, get back to even footing. I don’t like where things are going but … We’ll sort it out tonight, okay?”_

“Yeah, okay.”

The call ended and Stiles stared at his phone, trying not to let himself hope that his father would actually be home. It was always hard for John to step away from his job, even when things were happening with their family. However, it was the promise of regaining some sort of relationship with his dad again that had him tipping into the hopeful zone.

 **To Zombie Wolf:**  
Where are you?

 **To Stiles:**  
About to go for a run

 **To Zombie Wolf:**  
Can I join?

 **To Stiles:**  
Meet me at the old house

He waved goodbye to Adam and the barista before leaving the café and making his way back to his Jeep. A restless feeling washed over him as he made his way to the preserve. The caffeine had barely helped calm his mind and restlessness. He wasn’t dressed in appropriate gear for running in the summer but he didn’t care. There was an opportunity to run with his wolf and he wasn’t going to miss it.

Once parked, he made his way over to Peter’s car and peeked inside. There was no one there but he could see discarded clothes. When he turned back around, a dark grey wolf with bright blue eyes was standing there, watching him.

Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, he approached and wrapped his arms around the wolf’s neck. Peter nuzzled against him and whined softly.

“I’m okay. I don’t want to talk about it just yet,” Stiles said.

Standing up, he added, “Let’s go, fluffy.”

If wolves could roll their eyes, he was pretty sure Peter would. With a huff, Peter turned around and darted into the trees. Stiles followed behind at a more chino-wearing-human-in-the-summer friendly speed until he gradually slowed down to a walk. It was peaceful in the preserve and was easy to relax and just enjoy the walk.

Peter was more than happy to dart off and circle back every now and then. Whenever he made it back to Stiles’s side, he made sure to brush up against the teen. He herded and nipped playfully, earning joyous laughter.

Eventually, they made it to the Nemeton. Stiles sat between two thick roots, back against the stump, and Peter dropped on top of his legs, panting.

With a huff of laughter, he threaded his fingers through the grey fur and let his magic seep through to the Nemeton. It was now easier to channel his magic out, which made him aware of how much it had grown in such a short amount of time.

Looking up at the sky, he thought about what to do. His magic needed to be tended to but it had been so long. It would be worth it to go back over the basics and go from there. However, he knew he needed to study quickly. Protective wards needed to be put up around the territory, the Nemeton, and around pack members’ homes, and he needed to make sure he was strong enough to deal with the Grand Council’s investigator.

There was so much to do and he didn’t know how long he had left to deal with it all.

With the warmth of the wolf on his legs and the feeling of settled magic, he chose to push aside his worries for now and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ~
> 
> Feedback is awesome and very much welcomed <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading ~
> 
> Feedback is awesome and very much welcomed <3


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